Last night the wind blew, the sky lit, weather thundered through the campsite. I did my best to keep my faith, my will to be here. It led me out in my shortest, blackest dress without underwear to look for the community dance party. I would be bold, I would find Victoria, we would dance in the darkness and rain, it would be a moment. So I stomped through mud and flooded trails, stomped through puddles calf deep, feet soaked, everything soaked. And when I got there the dance was cancelled, my friend wasn’t there and I was just alone in the rain.
I get stubborn when I get lonely. Find myself testing gods will and my worth. So I kicked through mud streets looking for other fun to be had, willing god to send it my way lest it confirm some terrible self taught notion that I was alone and did not belong.
Lightning met a tree somewhere in the too close distance and bodies streaked naked through the night. There was laughter and shrieks in equal measure. I didn’t know which I was looking for. I wished for company, for silly adventure, but I can feel myself not writing how even in this moment there was a freedom. There was a return of willfulness laced with surrender. There was me standing in the storm, mud splashed past inner thigh, and daring something, somewhere, for more. I stood in the middle of that path, water pouring over dripping hair and red lips, and I had nerve. It was an irritation. But it was also an awakening.
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