A Bird With Restless Wings

I've always been fiercely independent, a bird with restless wings, the human personification of a Viking River Cruise (if you watch PBS, you know what I mean). But when this restless bird settled into a quiet life, I wondered if my wings would be clipped. Perhaps my passions would be lost to duties, my travels replaced with "it's not going to work," my love for new experiences put neatly in a box of memories and placed in the back of the closet. 

You see, my husband is tied to this land we live on. It is a tether of his time. For most of the year he has no flexibility to leave. There is no such thing as weekends, PTO, or summer vacations when you are a farmer. Jeff loves adventure like I do, but often he has to place his commitment to the land before his own desires or preferences. 

I thought that this would mean that I would become tethered as well, but Jeff has never tried to tie me down. When we met, he learned that my people are spread from coast to coast and that I love my people fiercely. When we met, he knew I wasn't a small town girl, a homebody, or someone who thrived in comfortable situations. 

Over the past three years of our marriage, Jeff has let me travel near and far without him by my side. I've been to New York City with a friend, to family vacations, and most recently to take baby Emma to meet my extended family in Kentucky. Not once has he made me feel guilty for spreading my wings and flying off. Not once has he complained or been frustrated when I go. Jeff, though he would love to be with me, has always let me bound off to see people I love and enjoy the world around me. 

In doing so, he has created a perfect juxtaposition in my life. I simultaneously long to be an intrepid traveler (now with baby in tow) and to be snuggled up next to my love in the comfort of our living room.

He gave me a home I want to come back to. He gave me a life I could have only dreamed of. 

Recently I thanked him for always supporting my travels. "Of course." he replied. "I knew this was a part of you when I met you. Why would I want to change that about you?" 

When I moved to a little farm town in the corner of a quiet western state, my husband told me that it was important I didn't lose my essence, my passions, my "fiery" nature as he called it. Little did he know that I would change, transforming into a new being, capable of more than I imagined. 

Little did he know that he would provide a home I would always be happy to come back to and that by letting me go, he would be helping me learn to stay. 

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