I have thought much about my young feral self since the post about my years after my father’s accident. To be honest I miss the life being accountable to no one, since nobody was paying attention. I miss the running off in every direction all at once, because nobody cared. My life is all about responsibility now. Who needs what, what happened where, and how am I going to fix it. It is the day in and day out. I’m firmly lodged in the land of make do. If it is broken, figure out a way to get by. We cannot afford another bill, so we learn to master the art of holding everything, including our lives together with duct tape and baling twine. I look around and see winter’s hard touch on the buildings and the fences. So much needs care and attention, yet all I can think of is losing myself in some 9 year old fantasy. I want to just stop living and breathing the stress for a minute. To be free from the steady pressure that sits on my chest night and day. If only it were as easy and launching myself into the woods on an epic adventure, only visible in my mind’s eye. I know it isn’t possible, there is no way around the responsibility and stress. Though I can dream. I can imagine a world without all of this.


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