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April 5, 2007 ~ Still This Free
Thursday.
On Monday, I opened my eyes to a beautiful misty morning and felt compelled. I slipped out of bed after Grove finished nursing, pulled on some pajama bottoms and shoes, grabbed the camera and stepped out the door.
The rising sun sent a diffuse orange glow through the mist and trees. Jumping our fence, I headed up and across the ridge. In a month, such a course will not be possible, for the thick underbrush will have grown up. For now, though, all is thin vines and delicate new leaves and buds. I took care not to step on any new shoots.
I weaved my way through the trees, smiling about my unbrushed hair and pajamas, not caring a whit--instead feeling glad that I am twenty-seven and a mother but still this free. I hope that I am always this free. I hope I never feel the need to ignore a compulsion to walk toward the misty sunrise on account of pajamas and unkempt hair.
When I returned to the house, my pants were wet at the ankle from the dew-soaked ivy. Rose and Monty waited at the window, watching me, wagging their tails. I slipped out of my wet clothes, gave Grove a hug in response to his enthusiastic greeting, and slipped back under the covers to cuddle with a sleepy Morgan.
For now, we are all well. For now, the house is in order. And I am grateful.
dew-soaked ivy
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