Maybe she has her head in the clouds, maybe she hides it there instead. But maybe this isn’t about her or her head. Maybe it’s about a woman’s body holding up the sky, the stars, the universe.
In October of last year Mike and I began shopping around for used RVs and sometime around Halloween weekend we found one. She’s a 37 ft. long 1996 Raven XL and belonged to the Hendersons (no sign of Harry!), a sweet older couple in Falcon, CO who were only the second owners and took such good care of her while they had her. She has less than 50,000 miles and we got her for $12,500, a total steal. We dubbed her the Serenica Landship, found a storage facility to store her for the winter, bought a gigantic winter cover, and sealed her up eager for fall and winter to pass quickly.
Fortunately, they did.
“When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” —D. H. Lawrence
You’re like a walking sun, but maybe it’s not a big deal. Maybe it’s not a big deal that you take care of me in ways foreign to me, that I can physically feel your love for me emanating from every pore of your body, that it’s you and me against the world.
l think about you on these roads to nothingness, I think about my pain or regret or guilt that have become dead-end branches off my heart forever reminding the blood running through me that I could have been better, that I fucked up, that some things are never undone and never forgiven and never forgotten. Have you forgiven me? Have you eulogized the branches of your own heart? Or are you still struggling to live in harmony with the hurt?
How often do you do something that absolutely terrifies you? I’ve done 2 such things in the last week. I believed in myself enough to go after something I never would have throughout past versions of me, something that scared me but something I knew with every beating fiber of my heart that I could do and was more than qualified to do. I’m much more confident now, more comfortable with who I am and what I’m capable of, more ready for challenges and opportunities to lead.
I was born looking for you. I was born in fragments, permeable and porous. I was taught that we are each whole persons, that we are not halves seeking to be made whole, that no other body could complete our own.
When I fell in love with you
I prepared for battle
I held my heart between my teeth
Until it was tough and impenetrable
Like a wanting calloused fortress
Yours to lay siege to
yours, yours, yours
When I fell in love with you
I went to war
Cloaked in leaves and clay
Watching you from behind the trees
Ravenous for the earth beneath your feet
To be the branches in your hair
ravenous, ravenous, ravenous
I’m not yet sure where life will take us in this beautiful beast (dubbed the Serenica Landship for anyone curious), but I’m okay with that. The road is enough. The road is beautiful. The road is host to so many fantastic possibilities. There’s something thrilling and freeing about embracing the unknown, about being tied to nothing but each other, about movement and escaping a static and stationary presence. I suppose there’s something poetic in acknowledging the forward motion of life in such a literal way.
Little girls are truly magical, aren’t they? Well, that’s my opinion since I don’t personally have one and thus get to run away laughing maniacally into the sunset when the impressive temper tantrums and glistening little girl tears start flooding the streets of Denver.