I packed my bag today and kissed my best friend on the lips, practicing my eventual goodbye.
I feel terrible that I am not able to be one of those girls who will promise to come back. Maybe he could give me a necklace or something and I would wear it until I came home to him. But that’s just not my style and hopefully, it isn’t his either.
If you want to be in my life and especially if you want to stay in my life, you’ve got to get really good at letting me go. I refuse to be constrained to this tiny town and restrained to any one person.
That’s simply not who I am.
My soul belongs to no God. I don’t belong to you. And I don’t belong to him. I could never be some trophy that someone puts up on a shelf, to be kept and cleaned and admired, staying stuck up there.
Safe, secure and stuck.
I don’t know if it’s the Native American Indian in me or just the illusions of my imagination, crafted from too many years of TV watching, but I belong only to myself and the land.
I would happily walk forever, alone, if I could walk beside myself and the earths comforting carpet.
And today when I packed my bag, I could feel the wild calling me. She whispered to me, her words carried gently on the wind from mountains I’ve never seen before and rivers that are to deep for me to explore.
I hope the people in my life now, stay in my life. But I also don’t mind if they don’t. Because as long as my legs can hold me up and my feet can take me to new places, I will be happy.
Because I will be free.