Seven Years…

So, in Mid-June, 2015, I got into a car with someone I hadn’t known for long, and went to a summer solstice event at their friend’s home. I had been hopeful to meet new people since  Elias and I hadn’t lived in Georgia more then maybe 7 ½ months at that point. We really only knew our roommate, and Elias had friends he was making at work, and myself, well,  I was mostly a hermit even then.

I had my old ghostbuster’s bag in hand, with my swimsuit, and a towel, and  I had brought something food wise  I think to bring to the potluck portion of the event. It would be a nice change I thought to meet people who maybe understood the path I was on, even if I didn’t know exactly where or what path I was on at the time.  I had been hopeful to meet people, and maybe make a single new friend.

 Just one friend would help make living here in Georgia more bearable for me, since I hadn’t wanted to leave Los Angeles to begin with. Self professed City girl who is more at home surrounded by concrete and steel then woods or dirt. We have a running joke that if my body is ever found in the woods, it was a murder/ body dump cause I would never be there of my own free will. 

 Just one new friend. That’s all I had really hoped for.

Boy, was I utterly wrong there.

Instead of a single friend, I made many, and instead of just merely people, I met those who have become my family. Through them, I’ve met others who have become closer to me than those I share blood with, and I am ever grateful for having them in my life, and for them being in Elias’s life as well. They have helped me as I figured out who I am as a pagan, and as I broke some of the patterns that needed to be crushed in order to see the world differently.  They have celebrated the highs in my life, and been there when things were low.

They haven’t just been there in words, but in actions and by deeds. When July 2016 hit, and my entire world just stopped, and the gods hit the reset button on my life, they were here. Not just for me, while I was in the hospital for a month, but for Elias as well, while he had to come to terms with the new role he had to play in our marriage for a long time while I got better. They were here in care packages, in phone calls, in four hour car rides that I swear Baba Yaba had a huge hand in. They were there in ‘Angel Walks’ and in the Red Hand events, and in small ways that I don’t think they even remember. 

But I do, mostly. 

I remember making those first awkwardly slow steps at Samhain that took forever to make, gritting my teeth to do. The ones that I had been told I would not be able to do again. Walking down the steps of my old apartment building that March, with my adopted little brother watching, as he was shouting for James to watch as I did it solo,  slowly with no cane, just holding onto the ricky old wood railing, but doing it. James and Isaac walking me down the walk at Ft Yago the following summer, pain in my eyes as I was determined to make it down the long ass walk to the beach below to get in the water. 

Tripping over air and dogs, tattoos, tarot card readings in guest bedrooms, sonogram pictures in front seats of cars, vaulted secrets, W&W, exchanging recipes,  being willing to possibly kill for a certain apple cake recipe, Fairy godmother, glitter fairy, boop sneks, and no matter the weather: it’s Isaac’s fault.

We don’t always see eye to eye, but we do our best to listen to each other, and respect each other’s thoughts and feelings. We have changed and grown, and some have left and some have come and stayed to add to our family, thankfully. 

I’m really thankful that I’ve been part of this crazy,  upside down family for the past seven years. 

Thank you, for being part of my life and letting me be part of yours. 


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