My friends have a new nickname for me. It's said with love.
So, I used to be a fairly normal woman in her twenties. I lived in the city, I went out with friends, I drank a few beers, went to family barbecues, and worked overtime when I could get it. Now, I am a strange woman in her thirties. I hide up in the mountains, and would outright refuse to come down if I could help it. I don't have many visitors, I spend a lot of time by myself on the computer, or with the dogs, roaming the forest as much as I can, which can mean I don't speak a full sentence or see another person for hours at a time. I once went two days. I love the solitude more than I thought it was possible to love solitude. The peace is literal and soul-easing, it's indescribable. So, this total change in life circumstances and living situation--besides my abundance of quirk--has earned me the title of The Mountain Witch, among some very clever friends of mine, and I think that may be the most accurate nickname I've ever been given.
In addition to the forest-recluse act I've got going on, I've also embraced feminism fiercely over the past few years, so the witch part is particularly gratifying. I don't wear makeup, I don't shave my legs as often as I'm supposed to, and I shop at thrift stores. I wave at my infrequently seen neighbors in sometimes strange, but always comfortable, clothes and most assuredly disheveled hair. The dogs follow me like familiars, sometimes even the neighbor's dogs. I step gently on the forest floor of dried fronds, crunchy leaves, and small sticks, barely making a sound. Maybe I am a witch. If so, I still have a few more powers to accumulate. I'd love to be able to walk into the forest and come out with a handful of herbs for tea. Flying would also be great.
In my class, which is wrapping up soon, we read Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison and I think I might be Pilate. At least, I hope I am.