I need to be out of doors. Truly. It was lesson number 1 of my back sprain quarantine. (Other lessons included- chairs are evil, don't fling 50 pound bags of anything over and over or ever, it's easy to lose your confidence when you are isolated at home, and I can crochet while lying down.)
Yeah, a back sprain. Sounds weird, doesn't it? It's even weirder to explain: "Uh, I think it happened when I was flinging 50 pound bags of dirt last spring or else I was picking up my free weights incorrectly... The sacroiliac joint got pulled out of place... then I drove a lot of people around and sat in waiting rooms and hospitals for a few months, keeping the ligaments from tightening up in the right position and so...uh... now I can't sit in certain chairs for very long because they make the joint slip out of place. Once I get it in the right place I have to keep it there for 6 to 8 more weeks. So, I can't drive, or sit in a church pew, or go to the movies for more than 20 minutes a day for a few months... and, uh... I really shouldn't sit too much at all, but I've got this nagging ankle injury too, so..."
Point is I am a free woman again!! Free to go where I want, within reason, and to do it without a chaperone. I don't have to be "crazy almond butter cat woman on the couch" anymore, unless I feel like it. I don't have to ride everywhere lying shotgun, seat cranked all the way back, and my husband driving me while I got looks.
Our childhood woods were just a thin patch of trees between the elementary school and the cemetery. But it was enough for me to pretend I was a Native American walking in silence, like in A Light in the Forest, or an explorer. I played and ran through those sparse trails so many times as a girl that I still have dreams about them. They are a housing subdivision today.
Any time I could get out in the forest with my Brownie troop or a church day camp group, I relished the ability to hide or run, screaming like a banshee, in woodland chase. There was some tying of our youth director to a tree and some discipline for leaving my girl scout trail buddy to go further into the woods than anyone else wanted to, but you can't let a suburban child with a heart for nature loose among the trees without a bit of wildness.
As they got older. I found that the best conversations happened on the trail, even if they didn't originally want to go. And they never originally wanted to go. The most hardened of teenagers will open up after an hour of hiking. I think my memories of laughing and hearing their stories about schools and friends that they'd never told me before is my favorite thing about family vacations. Because, my kids are funny. I remember hearing about things that secretly scared my daughter and my son's antics under the bleachers during Friday night games. Oh, guys, I'm so full of longing as I type this that I might burst, or weep.
I have a feeling nature will be my solace when that happens. Also, my daughter says we can visit and camp with them a lot, so why cry? Besides, next week is the beach.
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