Dinner for one tastes unlike every other meal of the day. It is calm in a manner that might either comfort or confront you. Even if the table is always the same size, it looks smaller when you are seated alone. The noise of knife against the plate seems stronger, more intentional. The silences have no shared laughter to soften them; there is no discussion to fill them. Just you, your ideas, and what you chose to cook, or reheat.
Dinner for one can be calm at times. Eating deliberately lets you enjoy every mouthful without interruption. You can relax at the window and consider, or you may view a favorite program, flip over your phone. It transforms into a little show of freedom, evidence that your firm is sufficient.
Sometimes it appears to be heavy. The empty chair opposite of you might represent distance, loss, or yearning. Still, evening for one imparts resilience. It serves as a reminder that space is what loneliness is not: empty.