my canopy of green

Well, it just may be official. It's looking like Mama might be a hillbilly. While packing up boxes for the umpteenth day in a row, preparing for a move that will either kill me or put me into re-hab quicker than I thought, I found myself suddenly out of packing tape. Well, you guessed it; I had to bring out the old, gray multipurpose goddess of the South- duct. Or as they call it around these parts..”duck tape”. Well, I guess I haven’t completely gone over to the other side until the door of my Honda comes loose and I attach it with a couple strips of that magic stuff, but I’m very close, people. Don't forget, I still haven't repaired my broken windshield yet.

So the latest Mag news for anyone who gives a flip is.....we have pulled out our swords of courage, sharpened 'em up and are facing our fangiest, snarliest innermost demon..pen poised just above the divorce papers..risking life, limb, liver and sanity like never before. Yep, we’re moving. The cardboard scramble is in full motion, my nerves are shot and time is breathing down my waddley neck like no tomorrow, but the new double-wide we just bought is gorgeous, dah-lings! But seriously, the Mag Family will be pulling up stakes in two weeks or so and moving to the city. The corrupt oil barons have pulled me out of the village and back into what Big Daddy and I like to call, "Truman-ville". Yeah, yeah, we'll be saving gas money out the wah-zoo, and we'll have our ankle biters in a more desirable district for expanding their little noggins and we will actually have a bathroom that the both of us can walk into at the same time but...Mama's just a wee bit verklempt over leaving her cottage in the trees. This place has meant so much to me- a peaceful haven..my niche in the woods. It was my first home, a transition for me on so many levels, the nest that welcomed my precious newborn T., the banister that steadied me when I left the West Coast and all my old pals. It has provided me a window to see the deepest part of myself, a deck that allows me to float among the trees. a perfect place for a quiet respite..contemplation, a whole lot of butt kicking prayer and quite a few tranquil moments of profound appreciation and it cradled me all those scary nights when I was afraid that my man might never see it again.

With every move we make in our lives, no matter what kind it is...it gives us an opportunity to take a nice big refreshing inhale on all that we have learned, all that we've shared, reminding us that we can never get too comfortable really, that life isn't static but constantly moving..changing..whether we think we're ready for it or not. I've learned in my forty somethin' years that no matter what..those boxes in our lives are gonna get shuffled, re-stacked, re-organized, some aren't gonna need the bubble wrap in them anymore and others may just need an extra piece of tape or two to hold them together and make them stronger. And, unfortunately, some of our stuff may have become damp and moldy and it's just time to let it go. And then if we're lucky we get to find a golden treasure box way up in the corner of our attic that was given to us by all the beautiful people that shared in this particular part of our journey. My neighbors have been so special here..supporting me with a smile, a warm meal, a friendly wave when I needed it most. My brindled tenant, the owl, has gifted me with his evening song, my extended hawk family have shown me their perfection in flight and the full moon has lit up so many of my nights with its majesty and mystery...casting it's milky reflection and ethereal beauty through the three-story forest. I believe I will miss it the most.

To the couple who will soon live here, who have both retired after serving our country, who lost it all from a recent tornado, who have so needed to find peace again in their lives, I wish you well here, friends. You will find everything you're looking for, all that you need..and more. I promise. Thank you, Michael and Peggy, for loving this place like I have loved it.