On the road
As a woman now facing the latter half of her mid forties. My head is bent to the skies facing north. The peak of all my obstacles still loom, but now the beckoning has faltered. Could it be the end of the road. What now? South still shines though not as bright. The flame is a dying ember. Moroseness is moronic. I see that now, I do. I strategize in a vagueness of manner, my uncles hand brushes my arm, I feel young . He is happy that I came to see him, he says he remembers. This definately means something as the old man is struck with Alzhiemers. Cognitive observance is a cherished emotion. He is one person who is happy to see me. The future is a grappling promise of weekend excursions after a week of a hefty workload. Money is set aside for a rainy day or a craving that takes hold. It can be in glass or it can be in wood or a color.
MK
'On The Road' is one of my favorite themes - it probably originated from Jack Kerouac's book of the same name and my period of hitchhiking around free (and not so free) without destination, searching for a 'self' which it turns out, never was 'lost' in the first place ...
ReplyDeleteThe 'end of the road'? ... it seems as elusive as that of a rainbow ...
and as we age the elusiveness..well it's just as good that rainbow, I am in no hurry, there is nowhere to go :)
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