The Change

She decided to walk home alone after the party wound down around midnight.  It was late, but the moon was up and the fall chill helped her shake off the wine buzzing in her head.

Crunching through leaves, she cut across the park and made her way towards a patch of dark trees in the distance.

She was alone and preferred it that way.  The fresh air brought her back to life after the noise and heat of the party.

She was never quite comfortable in crowds. She’d hang out on the back porch or near a doorway so she could make a quick escape if needed.

The hot flashes didn’t help either. 

Now that she was nearing the end of her blood moons she would go from party mode to panic attack in a few minutes.

Her clothes would start to feel like tight bands across her chest and waist. 

The smells of civilization became unbearable. Skin adorned with perfumes and face creams, the exhaust of cars, the reek of detergents on clothes.

The light of phones and screens hurt her eyes. The blare of voices yelling and music hurt her ears.

She knew the change was coming anytime now. It was inevitable.

Her hair was turning more brittle and gray, edging into her dark strands.

The only thing that felt good now was being under the open sky and the smell of the forest. The feel of her muscles moving in rhythm with her breath.

As she walks she hears a lone wailing in the distance that sends shivers down her spine in recognition.

To her surprise, she finds herself stopping to raise her voice in answer. A sound escapes her throat that she’s never heard before but it feels like it’s always belonged there.

Other voices answer her. Her ears pick out names, relationships, stories of grief and rage.

She sheds her clothes without another thought. Her body wants to run. Run faster than she’s ever run before.

In the night she moves, no longer looking over her shoulder in fear of the night.

Her eyes see perfectly now.

Her nose smells every leaf footstep and breath for miles. She’s never felt so perfectly in tune with her herself.

She knows no job title, no regrets, no fears, no shame.

She is alive and the moon is full. Her pack is gathering to rejoice in song.

The change has come.

The world will never look the same.

When the sun rises there will be a woman no longer domestic.

She is now were-woman.

Free to be wild.

Free to create her own destiny.

Free to roam with other women in the dark edges of the known world.

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