Story upon story, my mind plays and skips across roads and thoughts less traveled. But then again, the roads I have travelled keep on teaching me, grilling my stamina and testing my willingness to accept the gloriousness of being so small in such a brilliantly huge world.
My heart is heavy sometimes, and my choking anxiety hits hard, but on most days my peace prevails, fed by the beauty of shores, lakes and sunflower fields.
The stillness of home feels as it should, but the pumping heart keeps pushing my eyes open, I can’t sleep; there is so much to see. So I put myself in my bed after days of sleeping on planes trains and cars, using sign language to try and describe the confusion of being so thrilled and so lost all at once.
I rest my case for now and leave some of my words here, I must release the rest with my eyes closed and my mind open. The soul glares with color and summons me to slow down and rejoice. The high of adventure sways my fingers into a halt, and I pull myself from this practice into a deeper one.