wild

I hardly know what to think when I look at this photo of BC and Scott on the river on a beam rescue.

The image is so stark and striking. I know exactly the wildness of being cold, wet, and dirty.... it hurts in the best way. I can feel the soreness and the sleep that only comes after a day of being swallowed by the elements. The sweetness of sitting in the dirt in the desert drinking beer and watching the sunset. The wonder of drinking a gritty cup of camp coffee tucked into a sleep bag too cold to move. Or the wildness of being caught in the rain high up on the mountain.

About the same time BC was there in the rapids baling out an overloaded raft I was standing a couple hundred miles away in the corner at bars. From his spot on the floor my friend Sarah's husband asked me how I was doing. I answered I was fine but he called me out on the lie. "You don't seem fine." He pressed. "Okay then, I am sick and tired and I'm lonely."

Sure, I finally have this single parenting thing figured out.

I kill my own spiders.

I even sleep with most of the lights off.

I remember to get the mail and put out the trash cans the night before trash day.

The kids are doing fantastic.

The animal are still alive and well- minus Jack Cat who is MIA.

What I haven't figured out is how to just put it all on hold & go play- I mean play hard and wild. I feel tied to the weight of being the "only" one.  I feel like I have to conserve for some unseen events. All I really want is to wander off into the mud and hike until curiosity is beaten by fatigue and then figure out how I'm going to make it back to my car.

I don't mind being alone. Mostly I like it. I like not having to negotiate. I like not having to work by committee. I like breaking my own rules. I don't mind that Jack Cat is really gone even as that fact is slowly starting to sting.  What I mind is feeling trapped by alone.

When I said I was lonely I wasn't talking about missing other people, 

I was taking about me.