Freedom

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My socks hug my feet as I fold my pant cuffs around my calf and slide my foot into my boot. Every muscle in my legs and hips is pulling. I struggle to lean forward. It is a shame that one needs to exercise to ease this tightness and yet exercising is such a deterrent when I am in so much pain.

Boots are on. Now my snow shoes. Tightening the back of the snow shoes is the most challenging part. The bend is deeper.

As I zip up my winter jacket it pulls tight around the belly. Will I need a new jacket next year? Will I loose weight and be okay? The ski-pants are also too small. I can not do up the top two snaps. Should I look for a larger size on sale this spring? Will I be smaller next year?

All set.

I open the  door and the cool winter air welcomes me first. It is a perfect day. Just cold enough just to be winter. The brightness of snow and sun blinds me. This yard will look and feel so differently in a couple of months. It is amazing really how I can adapt to the space, forgetting about summer completely in this snow, and in summer forgetting the snow.

Snow-shoeing is one of my favourite things to do in winter. I don’t make it out as much anymore since my last little one was born, almost four years ago. My snow shoes have a maximum weight of 170 pounds. That weight seemed so far off to me at the time of purchase. I never thought I would ever be this weight unless I was pregnant. Now I am 175 (ish) pounds.

It is amazing at how often I think of the thinner-version of myself. Like an old friend or family member who has passed away. Sometimes I think I will never see her again. Other times I know I will once I have more freedom in my day.  The weight will just fall off. Will it though? Will it?

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When I am happy I don’t think about food so much. Or at all. For me to be happy I need to do what I want to do. Freedom is really what I want. Today going for two show-shoe walks with my mutt Laisey was something I wanted to feel free to do. With kids on an acreage, far away from anyone else, it seems hard to get outside. Most of my household is gone for about 12 hours a day.

The snow comes down here on the Saskatchewan prairies as I write this. With the struggle physically and the lack of opportunity, I hope tomorrow I will have the freedom to choose to snowshoe again.

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Old Age

Old age appeared like a puff of grey smoke. She thought I wasn’t paying attention. Indeed I was not paying her much attention. I was nursing my baby Fira in the dark and strategically holding a cellphone, watching Netflix, so I wouldn’t disturb her with the light. The show was on mute but I was engrossed, ignoring my senses.

Old Age poked her head in, slid in. At first she was meek and shy moving about. It reminds me of when you open your friends door to her house and call out. No one answers but you walk in anyway checking each room to see if your friend is there, seeing how she has decorated and adorned each room.  This is Old Age. She spent the early days investigating the new space. Seeing what I have done with the place.

Three years later she has made herself comfortable on the couch. I think Old Age is in pajamas. Hanging out. Waiting to get called into action. She is leaving dishes around the place, not vacuuming or picking up her things. It is getting a bit annoying. I have not asked her to clean up. I pretend she isn’t there right now. Soon though. We need to talk and take action.  Her presence reminds me that things are going to change soon.