Missing My Forest Lover
"I miss my woods," I commented to my friend who lives in an emerald green Northwest forest less than a day's journey from me. I sometimes cry mourning tears as if a loved one died when I recall my own little forest place I sold last summer. ⠀
I visit other forests, yet there was a connection to Those Woods, those particular stands of cedars and alder groves. They were my friends, my advisors. How many times, I cannot even count, did I find myself beneath their great arms of green requesting of their tree wisdom for the murky life path I oft was navigating.⠀
It was in those woods I realized my marriage was over.⠀
It was also in those woods where I discovered the forgotten woman I was underneath the forgotten years. ⠀
The forest sometimes kept me up late at night. I would go outside and stand in a pool of moonlight and listen to the midnight breeze sing. It was these secret trysts that healed many old scars.⠀
The forest... That Forest... was my lover and confidant in a time when I was learning to Be Alone. ⠀
In those woods I never felt lonely. I was surrounded by passion, the spirit of Life bursting every direction I gazed.
I fell in love with Being Alive in those woods. ⠀
Though I miss that little bit of forest where my little hideaway cabin was, it was a wise and necessary decision to Let It Go. It's ok to miss what was. I will always, always, carry deep gratitude for the four years I was able to be there.
I possess that forest inside of me wherever I go. I am still a Forest Woman with cedar in my bones and a wild river flowing through me.