why love must be wild

the wild love

I named this blog almost a year ago – the wild love.

I imagined that we would, that I would, live that way. I remember finding the name as I sat at work on a Friday afternoon, in the middle of the ending, with only a few weeks left before everything changed. I remember trying it out, running the syllables over my tongue like water. The wild love. It sounded right.

When I was born, my dad named me. I’ve heard the story told a thousand ways, and there is something precious and funny about it. My name, Hilary, means cheerful. My middle name, Joan, comes from John, and it means, God is gracious.

When you ask my dad how he came up with this name, he’ll tell you that Hilary just seemed right. He’d always loved the name – but it was decided almost like a lightning strike:…

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