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Safety

One of my earliest childhood memories is sitting in our backyard playing & hearing fighter jets approach in the distance. When they reached our house my dad used to tip the wing to let me know it was him... 


…know I’ve said it before, but the sound they make do equals safety to me. Hearing them fly overhead makes me calm…& no, it does not elude me that the same sounds made in other parts of the world are the source of great anguish. But what i mentioned was my life, my memories, my little anecdote about the flip side of just that coin. Those war machines, the jets, the helicopters, the green cladded men, they meant safety to me… The seats in the jets were soft, the helicopters brought Santa & a bunch of gifts to us kids at the army base & the green cladded men came with smiles & once in a while a strong hand or two ruffled my blonde hair. It all felt so safe, home…

So, guess I’ve been searching for that safe haven again for most of my life…but even within reach I’ve kept it at arms length & retreated back into my stronghold…a defence mechanism, of course, cause I know so well how it feels when it’s all gone. But, oh, what I wouldn’t give for strong arms to reach through my bulls**t & pull me in close, bring me home. 


When I close my eyes I can picture that backyard so clear… How the treetops swayed in the wind, their creaks, the warmth of the sun on my face, the bush with the cascading white flowers, even the sweet taste of wild blueberries & the feeling of soft grass between my tiny toes…I loved that place. Even read in an old diary that I thought if I’d ever get married, it would be in that little backyard, with the tall lush trees as a backdrop & the whiff of salty sea gently blowing through the forest…a roaring fire, a feast, people gathered around a long table, like the one in the Asterix comics…silly, I know…but that young girl’s thoughts has slowly emerged as this woman’s dreams, & there’s nothing wrong with having dreams, is it? I’ve been so closed off, so hellbent on going at everything alone…that I lost the ability to reach out & let people in. So, I ended up alone, in a house with 4-6 bedrooms & had to ask myself what the f**k that was all about…& of course the “I can’t stand semi detached houses/Don’t want neighbours that close” argument was completely valid & space for a music studio too. But truth is, I wanted a family to fill it. My own tight knit, fiercely loyal family unit. I needed to feel whole again. I wanted music to permeate the house, snuggles, laughter around the dinner table, frank communication, dancing around the fire pit in the evening…just 100% acceptance for the lunacy within. But over a year went by & still status quo… It wasn’t until this spring that I started to slowly get glued back together. A few more pieces though, so it’ll take some time. But it’s most definitely my turn to get on a plane, soar through the skies & tip a wing for a loved one…

-Linn.

“Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place”. -Zora N. Hurston.

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