Tonight I am curving smoothly along a Jackson County road, window down to let in the early spring air, dusk slowly settling in. It smells of grass, of mountains, of ice cream rock-clambering adventures. And, man, is it good.
Tonight I am sitting in a valley on a lawn chair in the grass. A bluegrass band is playing in a field surrounded by chairs. An old couple dances to the music in the back, the fiddlin’ climbing its way into their hearts and finding its way into their feet. The sun bakes my skin and my smile. Some music isn’t written; some music grows up from the earth. And here…I’ve found it.
Tonight I am paddling around a lake in a red canoe. An early summer rain is falling and I have a trash can for a copilot. The deck of Old Hickory looks out at me wonderingly and the dock waits for the patter of bare feet that will come once camp starts. I slide through the water, never minding the gentle rain, peace in my heart.
Tonight I’m cleaning out my soul spaces…
you’re still there.