I bid farewell yesterday to some of Mama Fir’s beautiful boughs and opened up the sky to valley, mountain, and sunrise worship (and hawk and eagle viewings). My father used to keep the fir trimmed up. He’s been gone 22 years, and the house has become increasingly entombed and claustrophobic. I wasn’t aware of the elephant sitting on my chest until it fell away with the branches, and my heart expanded six tear-inducing sizes. I’m breathing deeper. Ommmmm.
I am a Pacific Northwest native transplanted to the southeast for 36 years. In 2012, I returned to my childhood home and fell in love with this corner of the country again. I am a grandmother, a storywriter, a teacher, an attention payer, a hiker, and a back roads wanderer. Check out my website (and my memoir) at www.gretchenstaebler.com.
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