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  • Writer's pictureAnita Carter


I am the Wild Child. I have a code, and I follow it! Or as much of it as I have time to follow.

I wrote it in a waiting room once, in a flight back home from Barcelona. I remember feeling really pleased with it. It was a whole page long with, like, eighteen items. The notebook’s probably around here somewhere. Maybe I’ll read it again one of these days.

Item one, I do remember: No ties. No ties around this neck—no strings tying me down—no settling for ALMOST winning. No ties at all but tethered to the bold souls in my life.

The wild child in me is finding soulful food and conversations around the world. Why sit still? There’s way too much to try; food, travel destinations. I have no patience for it—for waiting until all the cool stuff comes to me. Life’s about seeking. And thus I seek.


Or, well, that’s what I say. I like the idea of flirty, frisky and fierce It reminds me of a story about the absolute Wild Child story...

"...Tell you what, it’s frightening to be the first person in the room to start dancing. Sometimes I’m the only person dancing, even when the music’s playing loud. I’m the only one dancing, but I don’t always keep on dancing. The nerves, you see. My nerves do bubble up sometimes, when I’m too visible. A roomful of people all hearing the music, standing still, and watching me. No one joins in, though. I’ll find my corner then—somewhere out of sight. I might still dance, but I’ll keep it smaller. "

Do you know what once happened when that happened? I found my quiet corner, but someone was already there. I almost looked for another corner to hide in. Something about her changed my mind. Might have been the way she wasn’t bothered. It might have been the smile giving her more wrinkles. All I know is I stayed. That old woman danced, alone and happy, although no longer alone after she waved me to dance too

It wasn’t so bad then, dancing with a friend. Maybe everyone still watched us, but somehow it wasn’t so bad.

She danced like nobody cared. I never met her again, but I never forgot her either. Every room crowded with people and music I entered after that, I looked for her.

Life’s too full for just one adventure, though. There’s too much. Won’t tie myself to just one road. Always seeking. I seek new flavors, and new places, new songs to sing. New is good. Adventure is good. I walk new roads and find new places to dance. When I learn more about myself, I find the weight of other people watching lightening. One pair at a time, the eyes don’t mean so much, I’ve noticed. I heard some new music the other day, and I remember for a moment thinking, “Nah, I won’t dance…doesn’t matter how much I like this beat.”

I looked around like I always did for my old friend, the one who helped me find courage, the one I always look for and never saw again.

After a while I couldn’t help myself. I moved with the music, and I smiled. If anyone watched, I didn’t notice. I figured it out: at some point, I started looking for myself. And somewhere along the way, I caught up with myself too. --- Ed. Note : What's the WILD CHILD in you like? Let her out.

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