Sobbing into My Soup

For the next month I was either sobbing into my soup or so exhilarated by all that I was seeing, learning, tasting and feeling that I could scarcely breathe. My emotions ran to extremes: sorrow over my injured heart, and the lightest feeling in the world as it mended. I wouldn't trade either.

Still not believing that my past was over, I sent souvenirs to the cad who had dumped me - and who I later understood had done more to help me find my wings than anyone I'd ever met. Cad received a wool beret from Paris, a plaid tie from Edinburgh, chocolates from Brussels. I received not even a thank-you note, though I probably should have sent him one.

We Take Separate Vacations

My husband and I often take separate vacations and every time I get the chance to urge a woman friend to travel by herself, I do so. Few women will, considering it second-best to travelling with husband, lover, family or friend - people who will often discourage solitary flight.

Yet voluntarily placing yourself alone in the world for awhile can be just the tonic - particularly for those of us who have been leveled by the usual humbling experiences and are finding ourselves with gingerly timid emotions that cause us to avoid books, movies or experiences that might be too jolting, depressing or risky.

I believe that travelling by ourselves is for the psyche what exercise and diet are for the body: a ticket to aging without fear. This may be especially true for the mom who is ready to get out from under her super-mom-superwife-superwoman cape, which is now merely hiding a more authentic self.