The Wild Frontier

Here I go, counting time again. The 18th of the month is upon us. It's now 10 months I've been a widow. I looked back through some old posts just now and came across the one I called Braving the Frontier. I wrote it when I was just 2 months a widow:


Lately, I feel like the heroine of one of those old movies. The ones in which there's a young wife who goes out to the frontier or the old west or some equally remote place with her husband. And then her husband suddenly dies. And there she is, this young widow, out on her own...trying to make her way. Trying to be bolder than she feels. Stronger than she looks. She struggles to survive the winter...or the demise of her farm...or life in a new town... Whatever the premise, I feel like that young widow. Forced to go it alone on the rugged terrain of life.

I kind of chuckle to myself when I ponder this. She always puts her boots on and scurries outside, ready to do what she has to do. She always surprises everyone around her. She always learns a lesson about independence / finds love again / changes the town in which she lives.

She always comes out on top.

If there's one thing I've learned in my 29 years and 9 months on this earth, it's that real life is nothing like the movies. It's way more interesting.

So I'll pull my boots on and brave the frontier.

Many months later, I still chuckle as I imagine myself the heroine of such a plot. I can see how the story is unfolding and it makes me smile. I strain to hear the soundtrack in the background, rising and falling - crescendo after crescendo as I face life head-on, meeting challenges, fighting for what I want, and of course, having fun in spite of the trials and tribulations that inevitably come my way. I am every bit as wild as this frontier.

And it's always a good idea to laugh at yourself. Roll credits.