I'm a 34-year-old geek girl living in Springfield, Missouri, and this blog is the record of my journey to build my own Tiny House.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Finding a Wild Place
Some of the fondest memories of my childhood are of the long walks I used to take with my mother and sister. Living in the country there were few cars on the road and we'd follow the twists and turns for miles, talking about everything and nothing, making up songs and teasing each other. Every holiday, when family came, we'd do the same, taking our guests along the well worn paths outside our home.
I know now it was as much a way to escape the house and my abusive father as it was to get some fresh air. Staying inside meant being subject to his rages and moods, meant being ridiculed, screamed at, or blamed for his own failings. But even if it was at first only a means of escape, it grew into much more for me.
Part of it was that my sister and I each had our own "Wild Place". We picked a tree, or bush, or patch of roadside that to us was full of nature's mystery. My mother would take us to them, pulling us in a little red wagon when we were very young, and we would spend time hiding among the leaves and playing with small toys we'd carry from home. I remember my mother's wild place was a giant oak that I called the "Robin Hood" tree, because it looked like the tree Robin's wanted poster was nailed to in my favorite Disney movie.
Walks now aren't quite the same, living in a town as I do. I can walk for miles, yes, and see many different houses and yards, see how other people are living. But there are very few wild places within a mile of my home, as there were when I was small.
A tiny house wouldn't necessarily be in a wild place, either, but when I think of living in one, when I think of curling up in a home I built myself, looking out to see the walls and shelter I've created, I feel that same sense of safety, of glorious calm and right I always did hidden in the leaves of my wild tree on River Road.
The picture above was my wild place, taken thirty years ago last month. I can think of few better gifts to give that four year old girl than a place of her own, a home she'll never want to escape. And I'm determined to give it to her.
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Maybe we can go visit your wild place (and mine) when you're here on vacation - a week from tomorrow!
ReplyDeleteMom
Reading your post, I was struck by how wonderful those memories are, then when I got to the end, I suddenly said aloud to your mom, "Wow, that's beautifully written!" And so it is. xoxo
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