January 30, 2015
This
morning as I was running the water in the downstairs bathroom to keep the pipes
clear I was thinking about how lucky I am. This life of mine is like the
retired life (well, a retired life without a pension or time on a golf course,
but I’m okay with that). I have a short list of chores to keep track of, I have
things to watch out for, but then I have the time to do whatever else I want. Flashing back to my past, I remembered myself sitting at the reception desk of
the job I had, the place where I first dreamed so vividly of freedom, and then
I looked out the bathroom window at the banks of snow, at the evergreens and
barren trees, and the furrowed paths made by hungry moose looking for their
next meal and realized the freedom I have.
The
days speed by. I get up every morning and do the same chores. I drink my coffee
and work a crossword puzzle. At night, after whatever kind of day I've had, whatever work I've done, I
settle back with a glass of wine and wish that that decadent time were longer,
that bedtime didn't come so soon. For the months that I'm caretaking here in
the wilderness I have peace, I'm here, I'm now, my life has the security of a
"long" time in one place. In these moments, all I have to think about
are what meals I’m going to make and which direction I'll go when I head out
for my excursions.
These
months are when my lifestyle meets its reward.
All
the moments of scraping by, collecting pennies in proverbial jars, wondering
what will come next and how I'll make it happen, all those moments don't matter
while I'm here.
Because
to tell the truth, there's no other place in the world I'd rather be right now,
for now.
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