On Being Domesticated

As a kid I remember feeling a bit wild. I would look at grown ups and think, "Fools! Why ever would you grown up!" And then I ran around my childhood building nests our of grass clipping, racing along beach cliff trails, daydreaming wild while running my pony through the redwoods, and eventually, slightly older, drinking into a stupidly happy state. All the while looking at "grown ups" with confused perplexity... why did they allow this to happen to themselves? There is so much life out there! Surely they haven't lived it all?! And then one day... today in fact... I woke up on the verge of complete domesticality, and I'm looking for a way to slow it, alter it's meaning or possibly start a complete reversal process. Maybe I'll start by mowing my grass (domestic) then raking all the clippings in to a big pile and making a nest. When I've then raised all my imaginary raccoons, I will run through it as a windstorm, kicking it across the yard (wild)! And then immediately go inside for a shower and a double dose of allergy medicine (necessary if wild or domestic).