Rusted cable, weathered wood, mist, low-ceilinged gray clouds, salt air. We have arrived at the Oregon coast for a respite before completing the final push to Forest Grove and the aging in-laws. I have to confess to a taste for the indulgence of a hotel and the comforts of hot water, clean and comfortable bed, a roof over my head, and a book on my lap. It would be easy to stay here and pass time in a bubble of creature comfort. Time passes either way. I am hoping that days spent pedaling a bike over mountains will jump-start some sleeping part of myself. That part is he who will inform the rest of my life. I hope to meet him soon, but know that he doesn’t often come around places like comfy hotels on the beach, though he might appreciate a brew at the place down the hill. What will he talk about, this weather-beaten stranger who answered the call to go out into the wind, to take a chance on losing, to accept the consequences of freedom?
Sometimes only your eyes are sufficient to reach your fellow creatures .
ReplyDeleteNo need to talk .
Your written words say all ..