Once upon a time, a little girl thought life somewhere as natural and wild as her oddly curled hair would make her happy.
So she explored barefoot and hatless, feeling all that she could feel from the Louisiana sun hot on the top of her head, the sun and forests and pastures of Germany warm around her body, to some Ohio mud cold and slimy between her toes, to Virginia and Carolina and all the way to Montana.
But still she wanted more.
Someone to explore with would make her happy, she thought.
So she married a man from Appalachia who was dark and ruddy, like an American gypsy.
He moved her all around like one too, loved her sweetly, and gave her blue-eyed baby girls, and she loved them and all the new places they would go.
But even together, still she wanted more.
So she prayed and searched for some brown-eyed boys, and the ones she found didn’t come home with her but two perfect ones did.
And she named them and loved them, but still…
she just had to have more.
It was like hunger, constantly whetted, but never filled.
more of something.
It wasn’t more land, more house, more critters, more people, more food, more skinny, more coffee, more time, more wild, more beautiful, more need, more calm.
She only had more,
when she had enough.
The day she realized she has enough
laid her flat and curled her tight and made her cry like something new was being born from a place deeper than her heart, mind, or gut knew was even there.
She has enough, and she is blessed among women for it.