My patio is my favorite place, specifically after dinner in late summer, when the sinking sun is casting long shadows across my secluded back yard, while the various birds and squirrels and chipmunks are gathering their dinner, and the Earth wraps you in a comforting blanket of her residual heat from the day. It is here that I remember that I am a child of God. It is here, in this peaceful atmosphere of serenity, where I reconnect with the spirit of the Earth and reflect on just how absolutely beautiful and incredible she is. When I observe the five different species of coniferous trees surrounding my yard and how majestically they reach for the clear blue sky; when I watch how the squirrels feast on the seeds at the very tops, inevitably dropping scraps for the ground-feeding birds; the erratic flight on the chipmunk, when I hear the steady tick of the Cardinal, the alarming squawk of the Blue Jay, and the hilarious argumentative chatter of the other squirrels fighting for dominance over the bird bath, the bird feeder, and this tree or that -- that is when my soul is calmed. That is when I realize that there is so much in this world that just doesn't matter. There is so much artificial nonsense created to make us feel anxious, inadequate, and any other myriad of poor diet & social media driven mental illnesses...and it just doesn't matter. It really doesn't. What matters is being one with nature, with the universe, with God, with yourself. What matters is knowing that we are part of this amazing creation of God's. What matters is knowing that God wants us to be happy, and that by design we are content, beautiful creatures, capable of amazing things. Unfortunately, too many of us lose touch with this Divine nature and get caught up in the greed, the materialism, the 'hustle and bustle', the constant barrage of advertisments and social media telling us what we need to be truly happy. It's all false. All you need to be truly happy is to the knowledge that you are part of this Divine creation, and you need to stay connected to it. So here on my patio is where I will remain...until the critters have nestled in for the night, the crickets have begun their chorus, and the glorious sun has sunk below the horizon.

It's only after you leave a place for a while and come back, do you truly realize everything your small hometown has – and doesn't have – to offer. I am a native of Chippewa Falls, specifically the Town of Lafayette. I grew up among the rolling hills of the apple orchards, where my family has lived for generations. I moved to Oshkosh in 2014 so my now-ex could pursue schooling. I was terrified at first, having never been away from home, but I quickly grew to love it. Many weekends were spent exploring the numerous “seaside towns” on Lake Michigan – Manitowoc, Sheboygan, Two Rivers, Port Washington, and others. There was no shortage of things to do and see and places to eat. When the ugly end of our relationship took me to Green Bay, I used my new-found freedom to explore every park I could find within an hour drive. I was absolutely enamored with the “east coast” of Wisconsin, and had no intention of leaving. But the Universe had different plans. A series of unfortunate events led my husband and I back here in April 2023. Because of the traumatic events that had been taking place in our lives at that time, being back home with family was an instant balm to my soul. I remember the first time I looked up at the night sky and saw the brilliance of countless stars, unpolluted by city lights – it brought tears to my eyes. When was the last time I had been able to see that? Being back in the country of my homeland was instantly comforting and refreshing. Life was safe here, and predictable. Our first summer back was one of the best summers of my life. We spent weekends relaxing on the boat and laughing around bonfires; we went to the fair, Pioneer Days, and Jaquish Sunflower Farm. I showed my husband Big Falls and Irvine Park. We enjoyed many dates getting ice cream at Olson's and walking around downtown. It was peaceful and perfect. Read the rest here: https://volumeone.org/articles/2024/06/30/344149-column-the-chippewa-valley-a-rest-stop-for-the

Rae stood on the threshold, peering down into the eyes of her beloved dog, the dog she had adopted one year ago and promised to love forever. His eyes broke her heart. He knew she was hurting. He knew she was leaving - and that almost tempted her to stay - again. She wished she could make him understand why. “Why does this feel like you're leaving for good?” her fiancé asked her. Because it is, she didn't answer out loud. She offered a weak smile through her tears and kissed him one last time. “I'll see you in a week,” she lied, and closed the door behind her. With her head held high and fists clenched, she silently got in her car and backed out of the driveway. It wasn't until she was around the corner that she let the sobs escape. Once released, they came forth in violent waves – months and months of heartache, frustration, anger, despair, anxiety, depression, confusion, fear, grief. She cried so hard she gasped for breath and her tears blurred her vision, but she couldn't stop - not this time. She had to keep going. She had turned around so many times before. It had to be for real this time. Episodes from their 14 years together replayed in her mind – scenes she'd replayed over and over again, analyzing every harsh word exchanged, wondering for the millionth time if she had over-reacted. But even if she had, did his words and actions have to make her feel so horrible? She'd let it slide for 14 years. She'd made up excuses for him – he'd been neglected by his father and bullied by peers, so it made sense that he always had to be right, that he was constantly trying to prove himself. She could forgive that. She could forgive his bossiness, his need to be in control, his double standards. She could forgive that he sucked at romance and thoughtful gifts. She could forgive a lot of things, and she had, for a long, long time. But then they bought a house, and got a dog, and they both had careers they loved, and she'd asked him (again) if they could get married…and he said no. That's when she finally started to realize that there would always be excuses, because he was a controlling, emotionally abusive, narcissistic asshole. That's when Rae had come to the incredibly painful realization that she had to leave. She had to somehow let go of the last 14 years of her life and find a way to move forward on her own, no matter how terrifying it might be. An hour later she arrived at her cousin's, who greeted her with a kind hug and showed her to the spare bedroom. A twin air mattress and small table had been set up in between the closet and the rabbit cage. This was going to be her living space for the next several months. Deciding to embrace it, Rae set down her luggage and drove across the street to the Walmart to pick out some bedding. Standing there in the aisle, viewing all the options, she couldn't help but smile. Is this what freedom felt like? She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the store by herself, let alone picked out something she wanted, without his opinions and insults of her tastes, and his disgusting misuse of the word “compromise". There had never been any compromising with him – it had just been him convincing her why his idea was better. Nothing had ever been good enough for him if he wasn't the one to make the decision. Selecting a blue and purple sheet set and a small lamp, Rae made her way to the check out with a little skip in her step. Back at her cousin's apartment, she reflected on how amazing it felt to actually have a space to call her own - just hers. She realized that this feeling she was experiencing - this feeling of inner peace and safety, of self-expression - was what she had been missing for so long. Was it the absence of this feeling that had driven her to therapy and antidepressants? Was it really as simple as just having your own space? Rae didn't sleep that night. She was too anxious; excited for the new sense of freedom and positive experiences that lay before her, but also dreading the grief and despair she knew she would have to endure in order to heal and move on. A few days later, she drove two hours to the airport. She parked her car in the long-term parking lot and boarded a shuttle. She checked in for her flight, received her ticket, and found her way to her gate. All by herself. After boarding the plane and finding her window seat, she sent a selfie to a friend. They responded, “You look happy.” Gazing out the window, Rae realized that she was, in fact, happy. Deeply, authentically happy. More than that, she knew that this was the first of many amazing adventures she was going to take herself on. She was a strong, amazing, independent woman, and she was going to be okay.