So what to write about first, my "countrification" or my first encounter with coyotes. I guess I'll begin with my countrification. That began in 1996 when I joined the Army. Just imagine....there I was, the epitime of southern bellness....high heels, pearls and all...and I decide to join the Army. You see, deep down inside, I knew that I was an action-packed, kick-arse lady waiting to run over the shy girl that most people saw when they looked at me. So, I joined the Army and learned how to pee squatting by a tree, shoot a gun, trek through the woods, wallow in dirt and mud, repel down cliffs and jump out of airplanes. It was amazing, now that I look back on those times. But even though I actually did do those things, I feel as though I read about another woman doing those things and not myself. As I sit here with my two children (third on the way), smelling my son's recently poopy pull-ups and watching the Cars movie for the umteenth time, I feel oddly disconnected from my past. The only thing that stands out in my mind to connect the then and now are my run-ins with coyotes or other related wild dogs....all at seemingly unpleasant times in my life.
My first experience was at sunrise on Easter day, 2004, while sitting on a sand dune during a field exercise in Fort Bliss and Yuma Proving Grounds. I had recently fled a toxic relationship and was contemplating the grief threatening to consume me, as well as the grief I may have left behind in my leaving. Thinking that I was alone on the dunes, I began to sing. To my amazement, as soon as I began to sing, a pack of nearby coyotes began to howl in tune with my song! Some might have been alarmed, but it was so beautiful. Their cry was so mournful and it mirrored exactly how I felt at the moment. When I stopped my singing, they stopped. When I started singing agin, they accompanied me once more. Trekking out to those dunes to sing with the coyotes became my daily routine while I was there. It was a brief but welcome respite from the pain I was experiencing.
My next experience was soon after in 2005. I had just set my boots on the deep sands of Iraq. It was after midnight, and there was not one light to be seen, not even a star. While carefully making my way to where I would be bunking, I heard a terrible screaming in the distance. It was as though someone was being attacked, and my heart began to race. There was no attack, however. I was hearing the piercing screams of desert jackals. They weren't as far away as I thought, however. As my night vision became better, I realized that I was looking into several pairs of yellow glowing eyes. Funny to say, I was not scared of them. I did respectfully step around them and continue on my way, but something about their prescence was comforting. In a war torn place where existed deeper grief that I had ever experienced, it was actually comforting to meet with those jackals. Interestingly enough, my husband and I met during this deployment.
And now I am back to the present....living a completely different life than my military past. I left the Army for good in 2009 after my second child was born. Now, it's 2012. My husband's Army retirement is drawing nigh in the next few months. We are living on a farm somewhere in Central Texas...WAY out in the middle of nowhere. This is my husband's dream...to raise watermelons and livestock. This is not my idea of an exciting life. We have lots of land...flat ranch land...but I am bored. So bored. Our house is small and there are 6 of us living here...soon to be 7. I have been terribly sick with this pregnancy. We have had a lot of struggles. My husband has so many phyical ailments. I am trying to recover from a 23 year struggle with an unknown ailment recently diagnosed...bipolar depression and crippling anxiety. Our truck was recently stolen...twice. Just when we have our bills under control, we are in debt again. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up (unlike my husband). If you had told me 5 years ago that I'd be on a farm today, living in a house that perpetually has sand on the floor, I would have been upset with you. In fact, my husband brought me here kicking and screaming. I would never have chosen this place. It was recently though, when I stood outside at sunset contemplating what my future would be here in this sometimes desolate feeling place, that I heard a familiar and comforting sound. My coyotes are back. Almost every night, they serenade me. Perhaps the future holds some excitement here after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment