a mid-life rewilding
Fifty is fast approaching and today marks 72 days away from being officially postmenopausal. Unless, of course, I bleed between now and June. If I do, the countdown starts all over. I don’t want that. I’m done cocooning and dissolving—I’m restless and ready to emerge. Ready to see
is a rebirthing of sorts:eyes loose shutcrouching on hands and kneesrocking back and forth. arching —no growling just prowling and breatha feeling into the body, sensing its stories and songs dusty blackened bare feet soft body, sweat-stained skin untamed bushy hair these sensual moves summon the instinctualfeeling the
The food scraps are out of the freezer. Potato peelings. Giblets. Onion skins. Dug-out pumpkin pips and flesh, the ghosts of hollowed-out Halloween lanterns. Chicken bones. Carrot peelings. They all end up in the large stainless steel pot. A few cloves of garlic, skin on. A dash of