Day: August 21, 2017

Day 114: Road Trip, Part Three

Day 114: Road Trip, Part Three

Return. Re. Turn.

I could romanticize coming home, like the time away was some sort of breath of needed oxygen and now refreshed, I return with clear eyes and hearty stride into the “normal” that life will bring. But the truth is, I can’t stop crying. I don’t know why. It’s a silly, small, unreasonable cry that is quiet enough to hide with sunglasses and a strategic turn toward the driver’s side window when the drop is made. And if you asked me, “what’s wrong?” I honestly couldn’t say. The tears just keep coming, like I’ve sprung a silent leak. Damn that I’m not chopping onions…

It’s just that with every mile I drive toward home, I feel myself left farther behind.

I’m still out there, bobbing in the lake, studying the mallard bride who ceaselessly prunes herself atop rock islands. Singular little planets, both of us, floating in walleye chop and lily pads.

Why does she concern herself, so?

 

I want to post the “good thing”
– the lesson that I learned –
the main theme of the weekend,
poetically summarized like warm milk in my belly,
as I drift off into blogland.

instead, a strange unrest has settled in my gut.

 

I don’t know if it’s a “good” thing,
but if there is one prevailing thought on my mind, it is this:

 

the constructs we live within describe us to ourselves,
and this brings comfort,
identity,
a certain predictability,
until,
like too-tight shoes,
they split at the soul,
and you’re bare-footed again,
in the woods,
cautious of the paths you tread.

 

Sometimes courage is simply continuing along ALL the miles to your destination.

 Day114_All The Miles