Another “How did I get here?”

I go back to my parent’s farm nearly every weekend. I go back to help out in the ways that I can which usually means cleaning up, doing laundry and cooking. I offer to help out in the barn but am always politely declined. Anyway, Saturday night over dinner we somehow got onto the subject of various forms of hunting seasons.

Not only is there deer and turkey seasons (among others) there are, well, I’ll call it implement differentiations within the specific animal season. So, for example, during deer season you start out with bow and muzzle loaded (or black powder) then rifle then back to bow and muzzle loaded. In the midst of explaining this to my mother I had that moment – the “how did I get here” moment.

How do I know this? Why do I know this? What has happened to me along the way? I’m not upset, in fact I think it’s pretty funny but still, how did I get here? I’m the city girl. The one who ran away to London and never expected to come back. I’m the woman who, if there was a poll, would have been voted least likely to live in the country. And yet, here I am. It’s funny how life throws you curves, how you don’t end up where you expected to be and how, at the end of the day you are better for it, happier because of it and completely who you are supposed to be.


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