some kind of freedom

“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.”

— Sylvia Plath

On the road I feel free. I love home too, especially now that it is thick with heavy storm clouds and honeysuckle, but there is something about the road that I can't get enough of. I watched my sweet friend Allix get married this weekend, heard her promise for better or for worse in a happy-trembling voice, and watched her husband do the same. What a beautiful thing that is. I am overwhelmed with life, the joyful hardship and hopefulness of it all. The time is sweet and it is fleeting. I think I've learned more this past year than all my years on earth combined, but it is a good kind of stretching, reaching, growing.

Right, back to the road. I'd forgotten how beautiful Texas backroads are until this weekend came along and I found myself hitting cruise control and turning up The Beach Boys and flying through towns so small you'd miss them if you blinked. In other words, contentment. Do you ever think about how, if you really wanted to, you could just get in a car or on a plane or on a bus and start moving? Sometimes I scare myself with how easy it could be to just leave a life behind. Sobers you up.

I made new friends this weekend; it's impossible not to when you drive just a little too fast down dark country roads together and stand bleary eyed in the kitchen cradling cups of coffee come morning, you know. Tight hugs and laughter and feeling like you've known these wonderful people all your life. I've found more and more that there is never an opportune time to do something, you just have to make time and go out and do it. I'm glad I did.

Happy times I want to remember forever and ever.