Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree and Rising.
How strange it is, this juxtaposition of nature and technology. It is midnight on the last day of March, and I am sitting at the top of a green and grassy hill, alone, with my laptop and a great wireless connection.
The moon is almost full above me and the only things I’m missing are a bonfire and a lover. But in the meanwhile, the night birds and crickets deep in the woods and the stars muted by the moonlight above keep me company.
I’m a little too cold, wrapped in a blanket here, but feeling so peaceful while the rest of the world sleeps on a Friday night. My family is well-fed and in bed, and I’m enjoying this little bit of “me” time and the sheer romance of nature at my feet.
I love to travel, and there are so many places I want to see while I am young and healthy and able to climb the steps of the Glastonbury Tor or walk the paths of Scotland or hike in the mountains near Cade’s Cove or explore the ruins near Belize and the Chenonceau in France. Jillian invited me on a riding tour of Crete with her but I’m not as much the fan of horses as she is but if I need a travel partner—a fellow explorer—I know she’s game.
Well, that and she really wants to know how I entertained myself so much with my last date without ever letting him touch me, either physically or emotionally.
There are so many places I want to see and visit and experience, and share these things with friends or lovers or family, depending on the destination. I’m doing more of that now. Just taking off for a weekend to somewhere new or some place I’ve wanted to go. There will always be plenty of work to do and things to stop me.
If I let them.
But for all the exotic places out there, here on a hilltop at midnight, by the light of my wireless laptop and a near-full moon, I’m content enough with my life to post my essay and then step into the grass to immerse myself in a quick gratitude ritual.
It’s a near perfect night for it.
A perfect night would be the bonfire, a full moon, a man who worships me—and me, barefoot, in a dress with full skirts about my knees, and eyes full of starshine.
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