StoryreaderMemories
November 15th 2006 23:42
Time and again I find myself lost, my body in the present the part of me that matters back in another place and another time.
It all begins with the road. I see it in my mind but more than that I feel it. The road home. And every road I travel down reminds me of it.
But the road is only part of it. There is always something else. No matter how old and familiar everything is it always feels new. The hills fold in around me, solid, reassuring and hazy. Like a warm coat on a cold day.
I find myself unable to move, frozen until I absorb every last detail. The light, the contours of the earth, the dimensions of the sky, the trees. Its like food only so much more satisfying.
Trees throw shadows across the ground, slender but deep, crisscrossing through my memory. And through it all the sound of running water, persistent, seductive and irresistible washes over and through me in gentle lapping waves. There is no escape, and no return.
It all begins with the road. I see it in my mind but more than that I feel it. The road home. And every road I travel down reminds me of it.
But the road is only part of it. There is always something else. No matter how old and familiar everything is it always feels new. The hills fold in around me, solid, reassuring and hazy. Like a warm coat on a cold day.
Trees throw shadows across the ground, slender but deep, crisscrossing through my memory. And through it all the sound of running water, persistent, seductive and irresistible washes over and through me in gentle lapping waves. There is no escape, and no return.
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