I ran out to the clothesline to rescue the dry clothes from the fast moving storm. My hands moved clumsily as I swatted at the deer flies and grasped for the clothespins. I was trying to beat the rain, but as I felt the first dollops hit my sweaty skin I changed my mind.
Instead of running, I stayed with it.
I stayed out until my clothes were soaked through.
I stayed out until my pants were so heavy with water I had to take them off.
I stayed out until I had to let the weight of my hair down.
I stayed out until I could feel a little bit of normal creep back into my bones.
I was baptized.
Mike worried that I would be hit by lightening and urged me to come in. He looked so tiny standing on the porch flailing his arms, but when I waved my pants at him to let him know I was going to be a while I could tell he knew I needed the rain. Like Big Fish, I was getting dried out. He smiled and went back in, but I knew he was keeping a watchful eye on his wayward lamb and wouldn't rest until I was back with the flock. I couldn't help but love him for it.
Our house looked like a warm ember glowing in the purple darkness of the storm and I could see my family moving safety inside. It throbbed with heat while I walked slowly in the sweet, cool rain. And I was grateful and new again.
I finally came in and Mike greeted me with a towel and a deep hug. As I walked up the stairs to our bedroom I felt, for the first time since moving here, that this was home. Not a vacation or some temporary good place. In a moment, I knew I was going to be ok and these walls were going to keep us safe on our journey.
I am growing into my own. I get a fresh start here. I care less about what people think and talk with everyone as though they are long lost friends. I shake their hands and ask for their names and sincerely hope to run into them again.
I am a tangle slowly coming undone.
go gently + be wonderful