Someone once said to me they never thought I’d be able to
live a top a lonely mountain in a cabin.
Their comment was never fully
explained and I never probed. Instead, it was something I took with me. Occasionally,
it rolls around in my head like a marble in a mouse trap. Will it ever find its
way out?
I will never fully know what was meant by this comment, but
I suppose I can speculate. And I do, I
speculate this person thought I would miss the buzz of the city, the endless availability
of activity. Or maybe they didn’t want me to move away and become this person
of nothing, a hermit in a cabin, or a crazed writer overcome by cabin fever. Maybe
they were talking rather than speaking.
This I may never know, but what I do know is the slow life.
It peaks it’s head out occasionally asking Are
you ready?. My slow life becomes filled with lounging on the couch, in the
arms of my love, our dog at our feet. Big heavy meals, stew simmering on the
stove. Mornings with light streaming in behind closed curtains, reading to
avoid leaving the bed, morning breath.
It is also full of dreams, both the new ones and the ones
that have escaped and I continuously find myself returning to the same
questions, others that I may never know the answers to.
I find myself rummaging through pictures of people living their
dreams. How did they get there? What did they give up? For now this fulfills my
desire, but the marble in my head is a ticking time bomb. Each photo I see,
blog I read, and dream I dream is a countdown to the day in which I won’t be
able to handle it anymore. How will I get there? A slow steady decline until I
burst in a life crisis? A life changing event like a flip of a switch? A
thoughtful planned out approach? Tick, Tock. Tick Tock. What am I waiting for?
All photos from,
http://freecabinporn.com/. Thank you.
