A footpath of my own

I've traded my high heels for work boots since moving to the country... I've traded a briefcase for a pitchfork, a cell phone for a shovel...you get the idea. My use of those artifacts in the city never meant much to me. I could set my briefcase down somewhere and walk off and forget it, I could never find my cell phone in the bottom of my purse and as soon as I got home the first thing to go were those high heels...how they hurt. I never felt natural, never felt like me when I worked in the city. There was an inner yearning, something calling me to a real life....a life beyond the sidewalks, beyond the crowded freeways and power lunches and hurry up and wait life.

Sitting behind a desk never gave me any real human connection, I knew I didn't care about the bottom line. I was there because I had to be. That wasn't any kind of liberation, it was bondage. It was bondage that sapped my soul a little bit more each day. I needed to make myself whole, and I'm so glad that I finally found my way out...a life outside the malls on a footpath of my own.

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