It’s been exciting and hard. Tiring and exhilarating. Stressful and beautiful. Hopeful and worrisome.
But we’ve done it. We’ve taken two homes and two lives, that arguably were simpler and less stressful apart, and we’ve combined them.
He let go of living alone and embraced becoming a family. Miles and I let go of being just us two, and let someone else into our secret club.
Pets and clothes and furniture and rugs and books- coming in and going out to make sure we agree on all that remains.
This house is right. It’s the next right thing in a series of things.
I have always known deep within me that I do not want neighbors. Here, we are part of a community, but when I step out my door I see mountains.
I see rolling hills and plenty of trees. I see cows and pigs and chickens and goats. I embrace cool breezes and weep at the sight of the bright stars.
Max and Miles burst out the door with no worry of cars or strangers or watchful eyes.
I feel closer to myself. One step closer to my wild.
I feel endlessly proud of how far I’ve come and excited about how much farther I have to go.
I won’t be captured. I won’t be tamed. But I can share my wild.
We are not more or less complete as a pair. We have simply decided to let each other in.
I won’t be captured.
We are all filled with a longing for the wild. There are a few culturally sanctioned antidotes for this yearning. We were taught to feel shame for such a desire. We grew our hair long and used it to hide our feelings. But the shadow of Wild Woman still lurks behind us during our days and our nights. No matter where we are the shadow that trots behind us is definitely four-footed.