barefoot and pregnant

there was a time, some time ago, where i found myself in need of dramatic change. i needed to reinvent myself after years of living a life (man) that i loved dearly but was never designed for. with the hopes of finding a life that reflected who i was, and who i could be, i up and left and moved to montreal, which brought me every kind of succulent and scandalous adventure my old soul needed, at the time.

i shared my home with a number of young, single, and beautiful roommates and together, amongst aspirations, educations, budding professions, and some (un)healthy social competition, we, along with our pulsing friends, drank copious amounts of wine, smoked too much, laughed and laughed, danced all night, acquainted lovers that were bad for us, spent more $ then we had, swam in controversy, touched on crazy, slept in, and eventually woke up, hard, to the cold sting of the surrounding air.

one roommate, a curious and talented individual who i admired very much, led a life unlike mine- both the one i’d left and the one i was temporarily living whislt exploring and experiementing with myself out east. she was different then me… she was dynamic and electric, full of fiest and so many other feverish qualities, and she was also very grounded and balanced in her approach to life and daily responsibilities, something i had not yet mastered (here’s hoping i do one day soon). it was not unusual to find her preparing healthy meals in the kitchen- busy, quick, and purposeful- nor was it rare to find her often under-dressed. never barefoot, though, as she was horrified at the thought of becoming the kind of woman who would go barefoot in the kitchen, this fear only surpassed by being barefoot and pregnant, which represented to her the definition of being without class, style, or personhood.

today, years later and living the life that i was meant to live, i am fortunate to be at home, warm with time and good company, and find myself, under-dressed and barefoot, creating many healthy masterpieces to nourish my busy working family in the weeks to come. i am listening to my folky tunes that have never been a phase and i have the product of my womb singing, dancing, reading, and playing in the room adjoined to me. though i am not pregnant, i would imagine that all this is a likely equivalent to her worst fear, but i am not afraid.

i am blessed, and i am thankful.

peace to you and yours, hh.


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