This week for Sunday Scribblings, the writing prompt was: Real Life

So I decided to give you some glimpses into what MY "real life" is like.

Real life is me, in my garden, with my hair up in a loose crazy-looking ponytail creation of some kind.  My hands are covered in dirt, because I absolutely HATE gloves.  There are handprints across my butt from where I've wiped my hands, and my knees are dirty from bending down to reach the plants. And I love every bit of the dirt.

Real life is me, propped up by pillows on my bed, surrounded by art supplies, yarn, and good books.  Relaxing music is playing, usually ocean sounds and classical music, and I am at peace.

Real life is me, raising my hands, talking to a God I believe in wholeheartedly.  Sometimes I weep, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I just talk a while.  Soon the things of life start to pull at me, and I realize I have to leave him.  But as I start to move on and do other tasks, I notice something. I feel filled.

Real life is me, holding a small hand, walking in the woods.  The rains from the past few days have flooded the State park, making what was once a gentle stream rush forcefully over the rocks.  I sit down on the top of the rocks, he sits on my lap.  I push off, and down we go!  The water has made the rocks into a perfect waterslide! We reach the bottom, and my backside is soaked, cold, and dirty.  He looks up at me all excited, "can we do it AGAIN?!"  My heart melts.

Real life is me, sitting in my local yarn store.  It's open knitting night, and I have never been before.  I am tense at first, but as we chat, I relax.  We gab about this and that, politics, work, love,... and I quietly settle back in my chair.  I feel at home.

Real life is me, on a Saturday morning.  The roomate is gone, the house is quiet, and I am ENERGIZED! I throw on my "cleaning clothes" (you know the ones, kinda stained, kinda "hole-y"?).  I throw my hair in a braid, and put on a bandana just because I can.  I turn up music as loud as I possibly can, open up the doors to let fresh air in, and set to work.  I clean and clean, singing loudly and off-key as I do it. I enjoy the smell of the cleaning supplies that fills the house.  And when it's all said and done, I collapse down in exhaustion and play a game on my computer, loving my nice clean house.  I feel accomplished.

Real life is me, hiking with my cousins.  We find a section of rocks, and of course we have to climb! We go up the hillsides, hanging onto small trees when we can. We find strange bugs, and admire the view from the top.  We find a small hollowed out space in one of the giant rocks.  We squeeze in, and dream.  We think about the lives of the Indians who once roamed this woods.  Did they hide there from the rain?  Did they pretend it was a house?  What were their lives like?  I look around me and see the beauty of nature, and the warmth of family.  I feel whole.