Where he used to roam.

My husband. My love, my rock.
The mystery of him, of who he is and who he has been. Who was that little boy, running wild in the fields, in the woods, on the farm? Armed with an axe and with his little brother as his trusty sidekick, he would roam this land.

Now, that land is quiet. The stillness of the fields hold the enigma of his childhood, and it makes my heart burst when I am there. The questions line up in my head. No words come out.
The land is hushed.




It is waiting for new warriors.