In a world of black and white I see permeations of gray. Likely some holdover from long ago when love hid in disguise behind a simple incongruency of words and actions. Behind judgement and shame. I carried it with me and took it as mine, you see.
It never was.
So I ride this horse. Away from the dark clouds rolling in low across the horizon, toward the clear sky where desert bleeds into more desert until nothing but the ocean stands in its way.
It’s been a while, this on-the-road thing. It does not feel so secondhand anymore but rather very firsthand like the first time traveling alone. I have fallen into hibernation for far too long and now I cannot find my words. I cannot find anything at all it seems - so it is time to go. To grab a hold of that which is misplaced but not forgotten. That which blows like the wind upon my soul. A wind I must bend to.
So I ride this horse. Up mountains and narrow trails, through deserts and dense forests. We circle round and back again retracing steps, watching the sun, and looking for landmarks along the way. They are always easier to see from a distance it seems.
And I need this. The solitude and silence. The stillness of front-porch-sitting on the road, at home, or both - a rarity these days. The sway of a saddle, especially the sway of a saddle, dog by my side. The smell of earth upon skin. To be face to face with myself and only myself.
So I ride this horse. Into the setting sun as a ladybug lands on my leg then flutters away. The effort of her frantic wings outlined against the fading blue above.
And I smile, a real deep-down-inside kind of smile. Nothing ordered or demanded. No performance keeping the peace. Because I know, that to the west the skies are clear and light, and my bearing points me thataway.
