One thing I loved about the land on the Rosebud Reservation was, well, how it didn't get in the way of the sky. It didn't sustain many trees. It was too dry to farm, so no cities have cropped up anywhere near there. It just _was_, and the sky was free to exist beyond it.
I often imagined myself standing in the middle of the grasses, with my arms spread wide. Me. The sky. The wind. God. And I'd yell in my heart, "Take me, God!"
And...He did, in a way. It was one of those "one with Him" sorts of things.
I thought of that tonight and instinctively drew my arms in toward my chest.
Why? What has changed? When did the Norwegian woman in the kitchen of the Lutheran church basement take over my psyche?
I'm not thinking of any non-wussy female role models, but there had to be an intelligent, strong Viking chick in there somewhere. I've been her before. I plan to bring her back.
So this is who I am. Short. Intelligent. Quirkily humorous. Obsessively analytical. Grappling with the difference between what I know and what I do. Caring. Selective. Looking forward to a few more lunchtimes spent on the treadmill at work.
Face to mirror: Take me as I am.
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