The View

The road below

I am surrounded by hills.

I used to go walking and there was a spot I’d visit.

It kept secrets well.

In fact, the ground was littered with shiny, broken secrets from other people.  People who visited at night.

I always visited during the day.

“I want out of this town,” I confided to the sagebrush.

“My life will be much happier when I’m out,” I told the rocks.

“I hate my life here!” I’d yell down to the road.

“Life isn’t fair.”  At that time, I indulged in the belief that life had to be fair in order to be good.

I-80 stretched  out below me carrying bug-sized cars to different destinations.  It disappeared around the bend in the east.

It was my hope that life didn’t end in town.  Surely, there was more than what I could see.

When the time came, and the time was right, the road below would be my escape route.

The same road that got me out, brought me home again.

I visited my spot the other day.  The cars hurried on their way below.

“I miss my mom,” I confided to the sagebrush.

“I want her back,” I told the rocks.

“I miss my mom and I want her back!” I yelled down to the road.

“It’s not fair,” I said as more of an indulgence than belief.  I’ve learned life isn’t fair, but it can still be good.  It’s how we handle the unfairness that determine our happiness.

The road below still disappears around the bend in the east.  It reminds me there is more than this town.

When the time is right, and the time will come, I will follow a road out of town.

And return home.

Originally posted May 8, 2012

7 thoughts on “The View

  1. I’ve said this before, but I really like your poetic style. You never seem to take yourself too seriously, yet you can deliver wit, goofiness and insight with charm. Thank you!

  2. If only rocks could speak, and tell what they’ve heard! 😉 I love your picture, some really lovely clouds, makes me think of all those cowboy movies I saw as a child in the 1970’s! 🙂

  3. I used to say something like, “If the hills could talk, what stories would they tell?”
    But then I realized – we may not want to know the stories. There might be some dreadful tales. Scary tales. Gross tales. Perhaps it’s best not knowing?! 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s