A Petunia in an Onion Patch

Just like the song, 'I'm a poor little petunia in an onion patch', this opium poppy has shot up in the midst of my lavender and just like me seems so out of place amongst everyone else. I, like my fellow bereaved Puddock, am at the stage... three years almost, when I have proved too, that I can survive living in my home, I can hold conversations (of a sort) with others, can provide myself with food and entertain myself with the help of some good books, DVDs and two crazy cats who give me cuddles when I most need them. So what's the problem? I need more than DVDs and books. I too, need to be loved and cared for and have someone else to care for. The thought of spending perhaps another thirty years living in this sort of twilight world, not knowing where I fit in with society, the world or anything, is making me depressed... something I have fought against since he died.

Tomorrow night I am actually going out. Yes, to the cinema to see Mama Mia. I have roped in my daughters to accompany me; they agreed because their partners don't really fancy the film. I haven't been outside the house after eight o'clock for a very long time, except to empty the bin, and hope I can stay awake long enough to see the entire film. I'm hoping it will lift my spirits and keep me going for another week or two until I can find something else to look forward to.

On the subject of finding someone to care for and who will care for and love me ... is it all too much to hope for? I've surely had my ten years of true love, do we get another chance?