I’ve discovered, quite on accident, that there’s something magical about sitting outside on the back porch at three in the morning, reading a collection of hunting stories, surrounded by wilderness, and listening to the cacophony of coyote howls mixed in with owl calls, and the occasional cry of a fox or a bobcat. 

I wouldn’t normally do this, because being on the back porch would alert the dogs and wake up my family. But, I’ve been home alone for the last few days, watching over the house and taking care of the dogs while my mom spends several days back home due to a work emergency. So, I can do things like sit outside in the middle of the night, without worrying about waking anyone else up. It certainly makes up for not being able to go fishing, since I don’t have my Xterra. My mom used it to drive to the airport. 

Oh well. 

If I need to go anywhere or get anything, I have access to Uber, and groceries are just an Amazon order away. But, I’m not quite sure how thrilled an Uber driver would be to pick me up in my fishing gear with a few fish wrapped up in my soaking waders, and I don’t want to risk being stranded on the banks of the Puget Sound. 

So, here I am, on day three of being completely alone. And, while I love my mom and brother, I desperately needed these several days of near total silence. Just me and the dogs, and the occasional visit from a cousin, and the construction workers fixing our house so it doesn’t get moldy and kill me. 

This is the first time I’ve spent more than a single night alone, which for me, is a huge step towards independence. I had the choice to come to Denver with everyone else, but I basically chickened out. Well, my mom would actually dispute that. According to her, I didn’t refuse to fly out of fear (although, I have a growing phobia of being on a commercial airplane, and I absolutely refuse to fly in the middle of the day during a pandemic. I prefer to fly when there are very few people and the air isn’t so chunky). I actually did something a hundred times braver than flying during a pandemic, which was staying home alone for four days. However, I really wasn’t all that nervous about staying home alone. 

As jumpy and anxious I tend to be, I actually prefer to be alone in most places (that are safe to be alone in, that is). I I like my own company, and the freedom to do whatever the hell I want without offending other people, or being caught singing along off-tune to my favorite songs at the top of my lungs. But, it’s not just being able to pee with the bathroom door open or drink milk directly from the carton that I like so much. I just like the solace of not having other people around. 

I’m not quite sure how to explain how I’ve felt these last four days. I’ve just been feeling incredibly relaxed and content. More so than I think I’ve ever been, even though it seems like God has been testing my nerves by allowing everything short of an emergency to happen to me while I’ve been alone. 

Almost as soon as my mom’s plane landed in Denver, I got a random text from an unknown number that read, “Hey, can I come over?” Sounds like the cliche start to a horror movie, right? But, I just shrugged my shoulders and blocked the sender of the message without replying. Why? Because I knew it was totally bullshit. A scam sent by a bot to see if I’d reply so it could send me more scam messages using more random numbers. 

Later that night, while I was sitting on the couch enjoying a plate of freshly grilled pork chops and broccoli, both of my dogs got up and started barking at the front door for no apparent reason. I was slightly alarmed, but instead of hiding in a corner pretending to not exist, I got up, opened the front door, and looked around. Turns out, the dogs were barking at a family of raccoons who were sniffing around my trashcans. I saw them bolt for the trees as soon as I opened my front door and looked their way. After all that, I turned off all the lights downstairs without sprinting for my bedroom like the bear from Annihilation was hot on my heels, took the longest, hottest shower I have taken in a long time, let the dogs outside one last time before heading up to bed, and slept like a rock almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

And, guess what happened? Absolutely nothing. No axe murderer was hiding in my closet waiting for me to fall asleep. None of the creepy dolls from my mom’s porcelain doll collection crawled into bed with me. No grizzly bear broke into the house after being lured over by the scent of my pork chops wafting through an open window. I woke up safe, sound, and refreshed with the sun around seven in the morning, with both of my dogs curled up in the bed next to me. 

That’s about as eventful as it has gotten. I’ve honestly been getting really bored, even though I decided to watch The Conjuring and American Murder on Netflix to spice things up a bit (by the way, it didn’t work. I actually fell asleep in the middle of The Conjuring). Other than purposefully trying to freak myself out to pass the time, I dug out my painting supplies and have been re-teaching myself how to paint. I’ve been taking the puppy out on daily walks, reorganizing some things in the garage, reading books outside on the front and back porch, cooking myself delicious dinners every night, keeping the house clean, and just lying around most of the time playing World of Warcraft and binge-watching Meateater on Netflix (among other things). 

But, I must admit, I’m starting to miss my mom and brother, and I’m glad they’re returning home tomorrow night. While I do enjoy my own company, I also (shockingly) enjoy the company of others. Alone time is essential to my wellbeing, but so is being around other people. I have been calling my family daily just to see what they’re up to and update them about the state of the house. But, I’ve also been striking up daily conversations with my next door neighbor, and even had a comfortable small-talk conversation with the roofers as they were nailing a couple tarps to the house to protect the rotting siding from the rain. 

Since I’m fully vaccinated, my Seattle family has been eager to visit with me in-person without masks. To be honest, I’m actually quite excited to visit with my great aunt and uncle. We recently buried the hatchet, for lack of a better term, after years of me feeling smothered and micromanaged by my Seattle relatives. They seem to finally recognize that I am a fully capable woman, and there’s nothing wrong with being introverted and quiet. Just because I’m quiet and independent doesn’t mean I don’t like other people, or I never want to go to parties or host dinners. It just means that I need space to myself to recharge after awhile. Now, my relatives no longer feel offended whenever I just trot off to sit in my truck for a few minutes while we’re visiting them on the front lawn, and I no longer feel like I’m being chaperoned and patronized by them whenever I see them. 

Also, after watching me devour a massive Taco Time order at a socially-distanced outdoor birthday party, and not get sick or fat, and then wash it all down with a giant Mountain Dew without suffering a sugar or caffeine overdose, my elderly relatives are no longer so freaked out by my health conditions. I’ve proven myself to be capable of being responsible and keeping myself alive. Does that mean I have to be absolutely perfect? No. I’ve definitely missed a few doses of Trikafta here and there since starting, and I did eat an entire sleeve of Oreos the other night. But, I know my body better than anyone else knows my body, and so long as I’m eating healthy and taking my medications as prescribed 90% of the time, I’ll remain extremely healthy. 

The more I think about it, the more I’m starting to believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be in life right now. Maybe I’m not where I want to be right now. If it was up to me, covid would’ve never happened, and I’d be living in some college dorm right now. But, that’s not reality. Reality is, my God-given job right now is to simply exist and to heal. And, to call my mom immediately if the house collapses. 

I don't know how to end this blog, again. I know y'all like my little animal adventure stories (I'll be sure to throw them all into a giant collection and post that soon. I'm working on it). 

So, here's a picture of middle-school me riding my great uncle Courtney's horse, Apache (the same horse that bucked me off when I was seven years old). As you can tell, it was a peaceful ride that time.