A Step in My Shoes

The frost covers more of the meadow this morning than I’ve seen before, clear to the top of the hill instead of cuddled in the lower southeastern half always in winter shadow. I love this place where I’ve been living for 25 years. Rocks and trees, manzanitas and creosote bushes are my friends as well as the quail, wild turkeys, and ravens. Raccoon prints in the snow and bear prints in the spring mud tell me there are as many unseen friends who live here as there are seen. A skunk will make itself known with is passing odor as well as a coyote with its distinctive call. Red fox and hawks also trot and swoop near me.

My family and I weren’t the first to live here. Because of the many unfinished arrow heads discovered near the base of the large rock beside the meadow, history buffs concluded our property was a summer campground for indigenous peoples. South of here is the trail between Covelo (Round Valley) and the ocean where inlanders made their annual trecks for fishing and the gathering of kelp and sea weed. Perhaps ours was an encampment for overnighters. At one time, the underground spring might have sparkled along the surface of the Earth, following a gravity-dictated path toward the valley. Now it’s only a winter creek, swollen and babbling after a heavy rainstorm.

I’ve never lived this long in one place in all my 66 years. So to contemplate moving tightens my chest and leaves a hole in my belly.

Where would I go? What could be more beautiful than here? How could I survive in a ticky-tacky, postage stamp house in suburbia after living in an octagon-shaped house in the middle of 40 acres of forest land? How could I squish myself into a one bedroom apartment after spreading my wings in 1200 square feet of space?

How would I find peaceful quiet in the rush of traffic at all hours of the day or night?

But how can I stay here on my own with all the challenges of wood heat, solar powered electricity, a well, and on and on?

I’m at a total loss to picture an alternative given the state of the current economy. I’m just making it! And should I move I’d have to work to pay the bills. I have to bring in extra money as it is so I don’t dip into savings each month.

I want to stop vacillating every day between staying or going and make some kind of commitment so I can think of other things, and there is no easy answer. In fact, right now there is no answer at all. All I can do is keep my heart open with my head clear so I can form any kind of question about my situation. I want to believe I will be turned in the direction toward my future by paying attention to the steps I take each moment. My best hope is to make my footprints my own.