Wild Days

I long for the days I would spend every waking hour in the woods.  I long to hear my mother calling me in for dinner, always within earshot.

I long for the days I used to climb trees, unconcerned with falling, skinned knees, or insects.  I long for the days when trees seemed so, so tall.

These are not the trees of my childhood, but they could be.  There are a few more houses and roads nearby then there used to be as well.  Now I walk this world no longer alone, in partnership with a wonderful man, leading the way for my young daughter, and preparing a space for the tiny life still inside of me.  Yesterday I celebrated the vernal equinox, Ostara if you follow the old ways.  I am no pagan, but I love the old sacred days, to be a part of nature, in harmony with it, as I believe God put us here to be.  I believe that if I am strong in my faith there is something to be celebrated everywhere, from the spring birthing of a lamb to a seedling pushing its way out of the ground to the love we have for one another in this sometimes crazy world.  Life is amazing, folks, go out and live it.

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