~BBW, Romance - A lovely blog of a rubenesque widow's adaptation to empty nest syndrome
I walked slowly and deliberately up the wooded path, banging my size eight boots to bust up dirt clods along the way. Just around the next bend, I knew I’d break the trees and be witness to one of the most spectacular views in the area. I knew this because I had walked this path repeatedly over the past four years.
The trees, shrubs, undergrowth and even thorny bushes had become as familiar to me as my own private garden. I knew their full, youthful summer faces as well as their vacant, boney winter reflections. I knew them when the rain had beat them down to the earth and when the sun had pulled them to the heavens.
The air was cool in the trees and I was not prepared for the heat and humidity which smacked my cheeks when I emerged from the tree line. As always, I was momentarily stunned by the isolated beauty before me. The creek which ran down the southern side of the hill greeted me with bubbly laughter. It seemed to yell, “Yippee! Look at me! I’m not frozen up anymore.”
I laughed back before I could stop myself and spooked some unsuspecting deer enjoying a cool drink. Their heads shot up and turned toward me. The big brown eyes searched to see if I was a danger. I stood still and sent word silently across the water that I wish no one harm.
The doe was not convinced and she moved backward toward the tree line with her two young fawns. The buck, however, stood and blew big billows of hot air out his nose while he stared me down. He watched as I loosened and dropped my pack and then lowered my own body to the ground. Without taking his eyes from me, he lowered his head back to the stream.
I stretched out and rejoiced in the clean air despite its mugginess. When my head found my pack, I stared up and watched the clouds sketch a continually changing painting across a soft blue sky before allowing them to close. This… this moment of isolation and ‘rightness’… is the reason I’ve once again made this journey. With my arms and legs spread eagle about me and the cool earth supporting every inch of me, I allow myself to consider the every-changing facets of my life.
The first time I marched this path was exactly four years ago. At that time I had no clue where it would lead me, nor did I care to know. I was running away from a life I no longer recognized. A life I was not prepared to live.
That day I buried my husband of 16 years. That day I sat and watched our three children spin into a grief that no child should ever know and there was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent their pain. That day, my life – at least what was left of it – changed forever.
We were still staying with my mother- and father-in-law. After relatives and friends had left, I bathed the children and put them in bed and then told the other adults I was going to try and rest too. Instead I re-lived my teenage years by sneaking out the window and running willy-nilly down the dark county road.
To this day I believe this path called to me. My eyes were so swollen from crying that I could barely see enough not to trip when the head of this barely beaten down game trail began to glow in front of me. I ran to it and through the brush. The nettles and thorns tore my flesh, but I either could not feel it or didn’t care. I continued up and up and up until, breathless, I fell forward into this clearing. I clung to the grass and beat the soil with my fists. My feet found trees and I did my best impersonation of a bulldozer. The trees and earth took all that I had, the wildlife listened as I screamed and then the creek gently carried my tears away.
I fell asleep in the grass that night, awakening with the dawn to crawl back down the hillside and sneak back into my in-law’s home. That next day, I found I could be all the things I was expected to be. The next night, I traveled the path again… and again… and again. Although I stopping abusing the foliage a long time ago, I don’t believe a month has gone by since the day of the funeral that I haven’t traveled to this private place. Above all else, it has kept me functioning and sane.
I traveled the path today because I need to think about yet another life change headed my way: my youngest child will officially leave home tomorrow. It is still weeks before the fall semester starts at the state university she’s chosen, but she wants to get into the new town and learn her way around, find a job and settle in before classes. I’m both excited and terrified for her. Hell, I’m both excited and terrified for me. This will be the very first time since I was at university that I will be living alone.
When I opened my eyes again, the sky was nearly a blank slate of gray. The wind had picked up and had hurried the fluffy clouds on their way. The birds were cackling all around me as their branches swung in the breeze. Although my body wasn’t really ready to begin the trek down, I’d learned enough about being outdoors to know when to head for cover. I nodded to the buck and dipped back into the trees.
---------
The noise of the going away party the night before served only to punctuate the silence in my home once my last born closed the door behind her. I attempted both cleaning and tinkering before giving up and heading into my room for my hiking gear and boots. Sitting in front of the mirror as I undressed, I took stock of myself.
I would turn 40 in a few months and, probably for the very first time in my life, I was comfortable in my own skin. My dark auburn hair hung just at my shoulders and my green eyes sparkled mischievously. Although some had made comments about the weight I’d gained in the past few years, I appreciated my new Rubenesque shape. Who was that idiot who coined the phrase “more than a mouthful is a waste”? Not that I’d know much about mouthfuls.
I could tick off on one hand the men who had approached me in the past four years. Two were scared off by my teenagers. One pulled the “but you have such a pretty face” line. I had thought number four had potential until I realized he asked way too many questions about my fertility. The last thing I wanted at this juncture of my life was to start over. I’d had my family and done a pretty good job. Now I wanted something else and, if and when I decided what that something was, I was going to run right out and get it.
I looked over my body in the mirror. It wasn’t bad at all. I liked the natural curve from my breast to my waist and then back out again to my hip. I liked the extra softness on my cheekbones and stomach. I let my fingertips trail a line from my cheek down my chin to my breast, across my stomach and then further down to my thigh. Not bad at all, I thought.
Then the noise of the silence attacked me once again. At first I felt depressed as I reached for my boots, then my head finally jump started. There was no one in my house. I was alone and responsible for only myself. There was no one expecting me to come home, cook, clean or make small talk. I could do… whatever… I wanted.
The realization knocked me backward onto the bed. Immediately I knew I was going to the sporting goods store. By the time I had finished shopping for all the supplies I needed, my daughter would have arrived in her new apartment and given me the required “I made it here safe and sound” phone call. Making sure my cell phone was in my pocket, I grabbed my credit card and headed for the car. Tonight I was going to march up to my favorite spot and I wasn’t going to come down until I had a plan.
----------
Except for the stupid comments from the young sales clerk at the sporting goods store – a young man I “accidentally” knocked into a display of skunk scent when I bent over to examine a lantern – I had a great time picking out all my camping supplies. All in all, I had enough stuff to last me a week in the wilderness… maybe 10 days if I conserved. My daughter phoned just as I was exiting the grocery store. I was happy that I could be genuinely excited for the both of us.
My last stop was the one I was looking forward to the most. I had called ahead so I could see the shiny Jeep in the lot when I drove onto the rental car property. It was beautiful – dark green and with all the back-roading essentials. After signing a few papers, I asked if I could leave my car on the lot. The man smiled at me and I could have swore he winked when he agreed saying, “Sometimes you just need to get the hell out of Dodge, don’t ya?” To my surprise, I smiled back and attempted my own wink.
The Jeep and I were made for one another. I hit the drive-thru at a local place for tonight’s meal and then jumped right over the curb while leaving the parking lot. Roads? I didn’t need no stinkin’ roads!
I drove into the country and let myself revel in the absolute freedom of it all. When I arrived at the trail, I kept driving. Typically I parked just off the road, but someone might get concerned if an abandoned car sat on a lonely country road for too long. About a half-mile further I found a low bridge and eased the Jeep off the road, down the embankment and into the dry bed. Popping into reverse, I eased under the bridge and effectively hid all traces of myself from the non-woodsy animal population.
The walk to the top was not an easy affair. The sun was beginning to set and I wanted to make it to clearing while I still had daylight. The added weight in my pack, the tent and all the other supplies made hiking uphill nearly impossible. After stopping to rest three times, I finally decided I could make better time if I left the cooler behind and then came back down to retrieve it.
After I finally got all my gear to the clearing I plopped down to rest. My body was coated in sweat and grime. My clothes were sticking to my body and it didn’t take me long to relieve myself of them. It wasn’t like the deer or hawks cared if I was nude. I started a small campfire before bounding into the creek.
I wish I could say the water was cool and refreshing. It was more like icy and numbing. As my temperature adjusted, however, I completely stretched out in the water, my head, breasts and stomach bobbing above the surface. I was lying there in the darkness when I heard a pop and then the birds take flight. With as much grace as a big girl can, I flipped quickly in the water and remained on hands and knees, staring into the trees. I heard nothing, but did not relax until noise returned to the area.
Then I moved quickly into my makeshift camp and slung a long t-shirt over my head without even bothering to dry off. It didn’t take long to assemble the dome tent and then I munched a candy bar while waiting on water to boil for tea. I heard a lonely owl hoot off in the distance and let my body relax again. The noise was probably a bobcat or wolf who was just as scared as I had been.
I fell asleep that night fully aware of the contradiction of loving my newfound freedom and wishing for a partner with which to share it.
(continued in post 4 of this thread)
Nature's Bounty
by Gowelisgl
by Gowelisgl
I walked slowly and deliberately up the wooded path, banging my size eight boots to bust up dirt clods along the way. Just around the next bend, I knew I’d break the trees and be witness to one of the most spectacular views in the area. I knew this because I had walked this path repeatedly over the past four years.
The trees, shrubs, undergrowth and even thorny bushes had become as familiar to me as my own private garden. I knew their full, youthful summer faces as well as their vacant, boney winter reflections. I knew them when the rain had beat them down to the earth and when the sun had pulled them to the heavens.
The air was cool in the trees and I was not prepared for the heat and humidity which smacked my cheeks when I emerged from the tree line. As always, I was momentarily stunned by the isolated beauty before me. The creek which ran down the southern side of the hill greeted me with bubbly laughter. It seemed to yell, “Yippee! Look at me! I’m not frozen up anymore.”
I laughed back before I could stop myself and spooked some unsuspecting deer enjoying a cool drink. Their heads shot up and turned toward me. The big brown eyes searched to see if I was a danger. I stood still and sent word silently across the water that I wish no one harm.
The doe was not convinced and she moved backward toward the tree line with her two young fawns. The buck, however, stood and blew big billows of hot air out his nose while he stared me down. He watched as I loosened and dropped my pack and then lowered my own body to the ground. Without taking his eyes from me, he lowered his head back to the stream.
I stretched out and rejoiced in the clean air despite its mugginess. When my head found my pack, I stared up and watched the clouds sketch a continually changing painting across a soft blue sky before allowing them to close. This… this moment of isolation and ‘rightness’… is the reason I’ve once again made this journey. With my arms and legs spread eagle about me and the cool earth supporting every inch of me, I allow myself to consider the every-changing facets of my life.
The first time I marched this path was exactly four years ago. At that time I had no clue where it would lead me, nor did I care to know. I was running away from a life I no longer recognized. A life I was not prepared to live.
That day I buried my husband of 16 years. That day I sat and watched our three children spin into a grief that no child should ever know and there was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent their pain. That day, my life – at least what was left of it – changed forever.
We were still staying with my mother- and father-in-law. After relatives and friends had left, I bathed the children and put them in bed and then told the other adults I was going to try and rest too. Instead I re-lived my teenage years by sneaking out the window and running willy-nilly down the dark county road.
To this day I believe this path called to me. My eyes were so swollen from crying that I could barely see enough not to trip when the head of this barely beaten down game trail began to glow in front of me. I ran to it and through the brush. The nettles and thorns tore my flesh, but I either could not feel it or didn’t care. I continued up and up and up until, breathless, I fell forward into this clearing. I clung to the grass and beat the soil with my fists. My feet found trees and I did my best impersonation of a bulldozer. The trees and earth took all that I had, the wildlife listened as I screamed and then the creek gently carried my tears away.
I fell asleep in the grass that night, awakening with the dawn to crawl back down the hillside and sneak back into my in-law’s home. That next day, I found I could be all the things I was expected to be. The next night, I traveled the path again… and again… and again. Although I stopping abusing the foliage a long time ago, I don’t believe a month has gone by since the day of the funeral that I haven’t traveled to this private place. Above all else, it has kept me functioning and sane.
I traveled the path today because I need to think about yet another life change headed my way: my youngest child will officially leave home tomorrow. It is still weeks before the fall semester starts at the state university she’s chosen, but she wants to get into the new town and learn her way around, find a job and settle in before classes. I’m both excited and terrified for her. Hell, I’m both excited and terrified for me. This will be the very first time since I was at university that I will be living alone.
When I opened my eyes again, the sky was nearly a blank slate of gray. The wind had picked up and had hurried the fluffy clouds on their way. The birds were cackling all around me as their branches swung in the breeze. Although my body wasn’t really ready to begin the trek down, I’d learned enough about being outdoors to know when to head for cover. I nodded to the buck and dipped back into the trees.
---------
The noise of the going away party the night before served only to punctuate the silence in my home once my last born closed the door behind her. I attempted both cleaning and tinkering before giving up and heading into my room for my hiking gear and boots. Sitting in front of the mirror as I undressed, I took stock of myself.
I would turn 40 in a few months and, probably for the very first time in my life, I was comfortable in my own skin. My dark auburn hair hung just at my shoulders and my green eyes sparkled mischievously. Although some had made comments about the weight I’d gained in the past few years, I appreciated my new Rubenesque shape. Who was that idiot who coined the phrase “more than a mouthful is a waste”? Not that I’d know much about mouthfuls.
I could tick off on one hand the men who had approached me in the past four years. Two were scared off by my teenagers. One pulled the “but you have such a pretty face” line. I had thought number four had potential until I realized he asked way too many questions about my fertility. The last thing I wanted at this juncture of my life was to start over. I’d had my family and done a pretty good job. Now I wanted something else and, if and when I decided what that something was, I was going to run right out and get it.
I looked over my body in the mirror. It wasn’t bad at all. I liked the natural curve from my breast to my waist and then back out again to my hip. I liked the extra softness on my cheekbones and stomach. I let my fingertips trail a line from my cheek down my chin to my breast, across my stomach and then further down to my thigh. Not bad at all, I thought.
Then the noise of the silence attacked me once again. At first I felt depressed as I reached for my boots, then my head finally jump started. There was no one in my house. I was alone and responsible for only myself. There was no one expecting me to come home, cook, clean or make small talk. I could do… whatever… I wanted.
The realization knocked me backward onto the bed. Immediately I knew I was going to the sporting goods store. By the time I had finished shopping for all the supplies I needed, my daughter would have arrived in her new apartment and given me the required “I made it here safe and sound” phone call. Making sure my cell phone was in my pocket, I grabbed my credit card and headed for the car. Tonight I was going to march up to my favorite spot and I wasn’t going to come down until I had a plan.
----------
Except for the stupid comments from the young sales clerk at the sporting goods store – a young man I “accidentally” knocked into a display of skunk scent when I bent over to examine a lantern – I had a great time picking out all my camping supplies. All in all, I had enough stuff to last me a week in the wilderness… maybe 10 days if I conserved. My daughter phoned just as I was exiting the grocery store. I was happy that I could be genuinely excited for the both of us.
My last stop was the one I was looking forward to the most. I had called ahead so I could see the shiny Jeep in the lot when I drove onto the rental car property. It was beautiful – dark green and with all the back-roading essentials. After signing a few papers, I asked if I could leave my car on the lot. The man smiled at me and I could have swore he winked when he agreed saying, “Sometimes you just need to get the hell out of Dodge, don’t ya?” To my surprise, I smiled back and attempted my own wink.
The Jeep and I were made for one another. I hit the drive-thru at a local place for tonight’s meal and then jumped right over the curb while leaving the parking lot. Roads? I didn’t need no stinkin’ roads!
I drove into the country and let myself revel in the absolute freedom of it all. When I arrived at the trail, I kept driving. Typically I parked just off the road, but someone might get concerned if an abandoned car sat on a lonely country road for too long. About a half-mile further I found a low bridge and eased the Jeep off the road, down the embankment and into the dry bed. Popping into reverse, I eased under the bridge and effectively hid all traces of myself from the non-woodsy animal population.
The walk to the top was not an easy affair. The sun was beginning to set and I wanted to make it to clearing while I still had daylight. The added weight in my pack, the tent and all the other supplies made hiking uphill nearly impossible. After stopping to rest three times, I finally decided I could make better time if I left the cooler behind and then came back down to retrieve it.
After I finally got all my gear to the clearing I plopped down to rest. My body was coated in sweat and grime. My clothes were sticking to my body and it didn’t take me long to relieve myself of them. It wasn’t like the deer or hawks cared if I was nude. I started a small campfire before bounding into the creek.
I wish I could say the water was cool and refreshing. It was more like icy and numbing. As my temperature adjusted, however, I completely stretched out in the water, my head, breasts and stomach bobbing above the surface. I was lying there in the darkness when I heard a pop and then the birds take flight. With as much grace as a big girl can, I flipped quickly in the water and remained on hands and knees, staring into the trees. I heard nothing, but did not relax until noise returned to the area.
Then I moved quickly into my makeshift camp and slung a long t-shirt over my head without even bothering to dry off. It didn’t take long to assemble the dome tent and then I munched a candy bar while waiting on water to boil for tea. I heard a lonely owl hoot off in the distance and let my body relax again. The noise was probably a bobcat or wolf who was just as scared as I had been.
I fell asleep that night fully aware of the contradiction of loving my newfound freedom and wishing for a partner with which to share it.
(continued in post 4 of this thread)
