Monday, May 2, 2016
Just gotta get through this last stack of papers and I am outta here for the summer. The wreckage of my life, scattered all over the front yard, eating a hole through the paper documenting my existence, will be left in the rear view mirror as I head out to who knows where. The roots holding my heart will hurt when they are yanked out of the desert earth, but what's a little lost blood? With those papers taken care of I can attend to all that has been neglected, shoved aside in this scramble to make a living: a dying father, an unfinished house, a truck in need of leaf springs and oil change, a story left untold. I'll have to quiet the anger at putting it all off until now, when I finally have a chance to breathe. Can't wait to see the sun lighting the sky as I head east, over the horizon, the hum of an engine my only comfort.