For more of my content feel free to check out my blog:
Story on fellow creators.
Triple Crown Crockett
My name is Rae and I am a 30 year old outdoor adventure lover. I am originally from Langdon, North Dakota and currently reside in San Diego, California. I value resilience, enthusiasm, storytelling, community, family, bright people, and living by one's own set of standards to the best of one’s ability. I believe we are each the builders of our own lives and taking responsibility for the things that keep our enthusiasm and thirst for living alive are essential in my book.
Soul Paint 1.
She painted in yellow mostly Dreaming of happiness and smooth roses ghostly Recently thoughts had been in black Loss and grief and death painted back
Flight of Bread and Honey
Her hands smelled of freshly baked bread. Warm, smooth, yeasty. Soft to the touch and yet firm, strong from the kneading of time and love into her life. They were the hands of a Sunday afternoon. Their touch made Cleo feel safe, at home, as though she was exactly where she belonged and she was exactly who she was meant to be. They were family hands. They grazed the soft strand of hair that had fallen forward from behind her ear, brushing it back as they moved along the tense grooves of her skull, relaxing as they went. They embraced her between them, gently stroking her browned caramel curls and playing with her split ends as though they were spaghetti noodles, the ends of which needed to be felt for their funny points. She was always in season here, in her grandmother’s embrace; spring and summer all rolled up into one. Joy beamed from her heart, illuminating, and drying out every oozing wound in need of healing, outshining the fog and washing away the mold that had stayed too long with the cold damp rain of life’s pains. A change of season. That is what it was. It had to be. She could feel it in her bones, in the very depths of her being. Winter’s welcome long worn out, she could feel this new life in herself taking hold. Prodded on by the gentleness of her grandmother’s hands. Her grandmother’s spirit. Living in her, visiting her in dreams, resting its wisdom and guidance in her heart. Fueling her carefully dangerous steps forward.