There’s something so healing about nature. Salty hair and sandy feet leave me feeling renewed. I delight in giving my daughter an evening bath to wash the mud off of her little body on those days that she’s been immersed in nature. I love the way that my husband’s tee-shirt smells after tending a fire outside. I don’t want to wash it until I get a chance to sleep in it first. The smell of ash and sweat, nature mixed with his pheromones–it just gets to me.
These details are precious to me. They’re what reminds me of my roots, my ancestors, and the more natural life that I can live–that people have traditionally lived. Although, I wish it were easier in this modern world. I desire a simple life filled with nature above all: a little home–be it a shipping container home, a yurt, or just a traditional cape–on a small piece of land. I want to drink my morning coffee by a stream, and go for evening walks with my family under the massive starlit sky. I want Fae to spend each day outside, no matter what the weather may be.
The city weighs on us–the small city that we’re in, that is. We make do, and live as naturally as we can. But the city is too heavy for me. I can’t handle the sirens, the car accidents, all the people and all the pavement. I’m tired of it. And with Jared’s ups and downs from OCD, I find myself having a harder time dealing with where we are. I need nature. I need its restoration, daily.
I hope it gets easier. We’re at least on the right path, making progress towards what we want. I know we’ll get there, in time. I have to believe that ambitions, dreams, wishes, and prayers will get me to where I belong. I’ll have that simple life–one saturated in nature. But I have to be patient, and just trust.
Fae’s little feet are resting on the kitty as they nap together on the bed.