I married a man. Or, I thought I married a man. It’s more complex than that. I married fire. I married the smoke of burning forests and grasslands, the hiss of singed deer as they drop down into lakes and streams, the billowing black that stains lungs and stings eyes, the rasping cough of tall flame. I married lightning strikes, the violent explosions of tree trunks, yellow shirts and green pants filthy with ash and sweat, the buzz of chainsaws, the danger of hovering helicopters, the maniacal purr of bulldozers and the crimson stripes of retardant turning mountain slopes to checkerboards. I married the long, hot kisses of homecoming. I married cooking for one. I married the blown out knees, the compressed vertebrae, the broken bones that come with too many hard landings. I married the whispering silk of parachutes and the hum of industrial sewing machines. I married a new lexicon; now I speak Canadian, American and fire. I married childbearing in my late thirties, or early forties, or not at all. Maybe I married lonesomeness in old age. Maybe I married freedom and adventure for all my life. I married the eternal wait for permanent positions, the bureaucratic crap that comes with federal employment, the tangle of job applications, the hope for interviews, the joy of reunions with our fire family at the start of the season and throughout winter. I married missing Idaho and all her wild lands and all her dizzy skies. For now, I am married to the Methow Valley. I married summers alone but thank God for those short nights and long lasting sunsets and my little cabin in the woods. I married winters of leisure, with just him and I. I love winter. I married the bros. Then I married all their wives. I married the last minute work details, the wilderness areas without cell service, the breakdown in communication after too many weeks apart. I married trying not to cry on the phone. After all, what can he do about it when he is so far away? I married the black soot that rims the shower after he washes up. I married stinky boots. I married Pendleton whisky in a little green flask — his, not mine. I married chewing tobacco — not his, theirs. I married all of these things, but there are things I did not marry. I did not marry fear, too stillness, evaporation of dreams. I did not marry resentment. I did not marry charcoaled wastelands, only clean slates and bald openness which green will velvet and the fuzz of fireweed blossoms will paint magenta. There is the blessing and curse of opposites, bumping and whirling like magnets at play: I did not marry water, I married flame, though water I may be. Perhaps this is pure spring creek flowing through me, water siphoned through steady bedrock, filtered with diamonds; a cool, melodic laugh rising up as I trip my way down mountain slopes and cascade in clouds from the razor edges of slate. Perhaps I am the thing to soften, the thing to wear away the weary skin of tired things, the thing to make room for newness, the thing to quench all of these flames, the thing to unlock the trap of heat, to weight the power of the wind. Perhaps I am the thing to calm and gently quell, to put out the smoulder of red where it licks against the black of night. Perhaps, in the end, the true job of a fire wife is to provide for the ache of thirst, to be the small rain when it’s wild flame as far as a man can see. If so, it’s a good thing I married fire. I think I’m just what it needs.
You most certainly are just what is needed…I love the things you did not marry even more than those you did…always learning from your young wisdom xoxo
Mmmmmmm. Thank you for sharing this. It sounds like you are just what is needed.
I am almost all fire if I look at my chart, a thing that I am both skeptical of and intrigued by, and sometimes I wonder if that is why I have such a need for water. It is so cool and calming and soul-filling.
I read your words and feel the hazy heat of summer (the kind, where I am from, where fires burn bushland not that far away) – I read your words and am so glad you are a voice I know. Be encouraged courageous and daring soul, you are brighter for being his, and he softer for being yours.
Tremendous wordsmith, you.
Beautiful!
Wow! What insight!…..I totally get it! Keep writing!
Tundrawoman
there is so much i learn from you, whether you want it that way or not.
xx
I so love your words and how they string together – they hit a chord with me, more so than usual, especially as we head into this summer season. I married a man and the ocean and very long summer hours that he enjoys spending at his family’s business. His work is not dangerous in the least bit and for that I am grateful – I admire your resilience. You remind me to focus on the ‘here and now’, to pay no mind to resentment because it has no place in my life. I guess what I am trying to say is that I hear you and I feel you. The summer days spent apart can be lonesome at times but also bring many surprising rewards – if we lived closer to each other we could pass these days together. Be well, Kaylin
oh my bright shining beauty lady. nothing left to say. nothing at all.
YES. enclosed in a big ole heart.
Wow! —True, as Mona says, ‘always learning from your young wisdom’
You are amazing and an amazing inspiration –your words/thoughts and photos…Thank you zillions for all the unique, exciting, profound, honest, beautiful and ever so brilliant ways that you share pearls of your life with us!
<3 Beautiful.
Got a couple of tears reading that! Complexity is so beautiful even though painful. Love your words and your freeflowing water soul!
For all that you’ve married, and for all that you are.
Cheers, sweet friend.
xox
a resounding yes. oh, i needed to read this tonight, as i felt myself pulling away, turning inward, nurturing tiny seeds of resentment, fanning the small flame of a critical spirit…yes, thank you for reminding me that the flint of iron against iron isn’t always easy and certainly not comfortable, but necessary to our growth and shaping.
also, before we moved to WI, we lived in Seattle and Methow Valley was our favorite favorite place to go to get away from it all…first place we took our firstborn back country everything…xo
i’ve said it before, and no doubt will again, but:
this. is. your. best. post. ever.
it is free verse poetry, a song sung in several octaves, a painting in bold colors, a dance of images…
it is a portrait of you.
and you are beautiful.
While following a link from my dear friend pencilfox, I read your blog this evening. My heart too was captured and is kept by a man who fought fires – all the things your wrote about touched me. Continue to be his rain – these men are unique and independent souls who keep us alive.
Big smiles throughout!
xox
Breathtaking!
And I agree with Janet – best post by far.
On a personal note – I just celebrated 20 years with my beloved. It has been easy and difficult, beautiful and ugly, all at the same time time. I wouldn’t change a thing. xo
simply-gorgeous-writing…a sonnet to fire
been reading TTW “Red” again….
need to ask her ( politely and lovingly) to step aside… cause JSL is here!
he he!…xx
..oh…meant “fire and love”
Your words take my breath away … XXO
Uh huh huh. Well I am a bit speachless of the amount of feeling your writing carries.
Be well, I hope the moving and all of what is ahead will bring you good things alltho of all the hardship that involves in it aswell.
Beautiful and poetic, as always Jillian.
xoxo,
Cathy
wonderfully written my friend
love and light
Beautiful words. We recently moved to Jackson, WY and many of your words and emotions resonate with me. Thanks for writing and being!
Be Well,
Carter
Wow!
Oh my gosh. Gulp. Lump in my throat. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful and passionate.
This writing: you, your thoughts, your images… all why I adore you so.
I don’t know RW but somehow adore him too.
captivating. a true love letter.
So beautiful. One of your best. (And that’s sayin’ something because dang girl you can write.)
Well written. Safety and good health to all.
Thank you all so much for these kind comments. I read every single one and WISH I had the time to respond to each one but I’m packing packing packing (and cleaning too).
Thank you, again.
XX
I am moved, someone finally gets it.
I am a girlfriend of an Army Special Ops man… but I am more than that.
I’m strong, adventurous, artistic, soulful, driven and very much my own person. The military community often doesn’t “get” feminists, those that are proud to be a women.. and roar every chance they get. I also have a rough time loosening my embrace on the man I love so that he can jump into dangerous situations.I didn’t pick this life but I am proud to be strong enough to live it.You too are a strong women, and I an ever so thank full to be soothed by your words, and inspired by your independent nature!
Sure!
I get it.
On very rare occasions I don’t like what Rob does for a living, but I’d never ask him to quit.
🙂
wedding vows.
I have read and reread this many times its my favorite piece of your prose. please keep writing you capture the seasons and your thoughts beautifully, write a book and tell us all about your life’s adventure.
thank you so much for having the courage to publish your soul
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