Next week, John and I will celebrate our 20th Anniversary. Twenty years which have gone so quickly, and pretty darn smoothly.
He’s away for the weekend, and he sent me an e-mail early this morning. It read “What a day so far…7:04am!” and had a photo attachment. When I opened the photo I saw two dead turkeys in a wheelbarrow. Yup. That’s right. Two dead turkeys.
A few months ago, he started reading books like “Mountain Man” and “Crow Killer”. He got so involved in them that he decided he wanted to BE a mountain man. He started searching on e-bay for a coonskin hat. He watched YouTube videos about skinning beavers. And he told me that he was thinking about taking the test for a hunting license.
I’m a vegetarian, by the way. An ahimsa-practicing-yogi-vegetarian. Anyway, he took the hunting test. Got his license. Got himself invited to go hunting. And now, apparently, he has killed a turkey.
So what do I say? Good for him! This is what he wanted to do. He made a decision, followed through, and fulfilled a dream. Does it matter that the dream doesn’t fit in with MY way of thinking? Nope. Not at all. It’s his path, not mine.
Just as he barely blinked when I started bringing elephant statues and incense into the house; when I gave up a stable job to pursue the life of a yogi-teacher; when I began to sing Om Namah Shivaya in the shower; I congratulate him on his first (gulp) kill.
Okay, it’s a little hard to actually say it. But I will, anyway.
This life of ours is a road trip. We’ve been traveling along the highway together in separate vehicles for over twenty years now. Sometimes one of us wants to make a pit stop at a point of interest along the way, and the other does not. No matter. We know we’ll meet back up a little further along the road, talk of our off-road adventures, and continue on.
[Happy Anniversary, Johnny. And Congratulations on your first (and maybe only??) kill.]