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Longing for the simplicity of the past.
I used to live a simple life in the desert.
I lived with my partner and my two young children in the middle of nowhere in an old mobile that we were making constant repairs on.
I was in endless conflict with my oldest sons’ father.
All of our money went into our home and legal fees.
I often felt like my life was overwhelming and I couldn’t keep up.
But in comparison to the complicated experiences of my now-ness, it was a simple life.
I happily made nourishing breakfasts and packed hearty lunches for my people every morning.
I made cookies, delectable bread and other deliciousness during the day to give them when they got home.
Dinner was always a scrumptious affair rounded out with chatter and laughter as we gathered around the table together.
I loved cooking and baking then. That was when I had a big kitchen that was easy to create in. And a dishwasher. That was also before Celiac and food allergies.
I worked in my garden.
I spent time with friends and family.
I volunteered and gave everything that I could.
When the nearby school was not in session and the wind wasn’t blowing, all was silent.
Every night from the dining room table or the window over the kitchen sink, we watched the sun set behind the mountains with nothing else but tumbleweeds to see for miles and miles.
I often heard the coyotes near my bedroom window in the night.
I was never short on little people snuggles and hugs. And joy and laughter and silliness and made-up games.
I was never short on love back then.
I miss the simplicity of that life. I didn’t know then how good I had it.
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