Thoughts Behind: Wolves

Going to the countryside may inspire images of seclusion or “Little House on the Prairie," yet for me, it’s summer. Every year, without fail, my family and I take the four-and-a-half-hour drive upstate to my aunt’s home nestled between the high mountains and rolling farmland. It reminds me of the hay bales and nature. The old church house and the sweetly dusty smell of the room I share with my brother and hatred. Hatred, a deep-rooted animosity, towards the coyotes I could hear howling from my window in the farmhouse. Animosity is often taught – by standards, generational issues, day-to-day life, and (at night) the coyotes could hear howling from just beyond the front door. The fear left behind by these coyotes, or whatever childhood monster in your closet, is too much for us to understand when we’re young. I’m sure as kids we want to look more mature, older – even if that means hiding our fears. But I think we all know we must own up to being scared, even if just to ourselves and the monsters in our closet for the night. So when I was nine and heard the coyotes howling, there was little to do than to run and tell my parents. They would tell me that the coyotes were far, that they would protect me. 

So when my uncle built a fire pit with bricks and dry leaves and damp wood I listened attentively to the stories of the people coming by. For stories of coyotes, stories of creatures that came knocking on their doors, stories of things that went bump in the night. I heard and listened for what would never come. Well, until I was scared inside by the howl of a coyote. I was ten, and still scared of the coyotes, my parents would reassure me that nothing would happen to me. I grew to hate this– I was ten and scared of what was just a dog right? Yet, just the idea of being brave couldn’t keep me from hiding under my covers each night to watch the window. Waiting for a monster to appear. So when I was thirteen, I understood that wolves went about their lives just as us, their circle of life continued just as ours. We all accept this truth at one point or fear losing sleep the rest of our lives. 

But, if I could accept this then why was I still so terrified? Was it my fate to always live under my covers and be afraid of what comes next? When I turned 15, I understood. I understood that these coyotes could not harm me but only stand as examples. Examples that prove you can be scared, but never hesitant to go forward. Examples that prove our futures, even if they are some seemingly terrifying monsters, can be more than expected. As examples that while it is true that never opening that front door means you will never get hurt – it means that nothing will ever happen. In the future, or at all. We will never see through to our future and tell our stories. We all must come to this understanding, or live under the itchy covers of what was once possible. Should we be scared of what’s beyond that door, or never open it for fear it could change our perspectives or give us life? Should we continue to hesitate toward our futures, for better or for worse? I understand that this might sound a bit, well, melodramatic, but I promise there’s a point. We can’t continue to be scared of our childhood monsters or hold ourselves to the people we thought we would be at this age. It’s all pointless, honestly, if we can't even be honest with ourselves then how can we ever grow as who we are fundamentally? And if we don’t stop being scared of what comes next, how will we ever take that next step toward our futures? So when I turned 15, I went out to the porch and dozed off to the howling coyotes.