She left home at 14 and wandered on her own, 20 years long, through various countries, career paths, lovers, and yearnings. She regularly climbed out of pitfalls of disappointment in the men she populated her life with. Sometimes she shared her kitchen and bathroom with one or more roommates. Often, she left the home she'd built either to escape the mundanity of day-to-day existence or to explore new strange worlds.
She would always go off on meditation retreats whenever it was possible. These times were salves for her heart and soul. If she'd been given the choice or had the courage, she would have done a permanent retreat. She loved losing herself, Her Self, in the solitude and stillness of monastic life. She wanted nothing more than to explore how to be a mystic, to be contemplative in modern times.
Then, at 33, she gave birth to her first child. Her precious, undeniably beautiful child. In one breath, she knew she would never know solitude again as she did before.
(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)
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