Wildwood
Since I was last in my home forest, I got engaged, married, pregnant, and graduated (not in that order). In that eight-month interim, I visited five continents, met my husband's family members, and saw both of my siblings who have been living abroad.
But back in October, I packed tentatively. I didn't bring a lot, not willing to bank on my then-fledgling relationship with the man who is now my husband. All my tickets were one-way: a country at a time, future uncertain. I hoped.
And it worked: now I'm married to a gentle, loving man who will, in just twenty-one weeks, embark on parenthood with me.
He held my gaze as long as he could from his seat in the seaplane. Standing on the Pelican float with my parents, I waved goodbye. This was a one-way ticket, too. Now, I'm waiting for a visa so I can return to the UK and officially live there: likely, our longest time apart so far.
But while he is home, family and woods are home too. I've shared food with my aunt and cousins, had deep talks with my half sister as we drive back and forth between her Juneau place and the Celebration festivities downtown.
I've been feeling better in familiar places. My sister packs apple slices to share, and I'm comfortable saying, let's go back, it's time to lie down. But I can also stay out a bit longer, now. I always breathe deeper with mountains…
