shall I get pensive and reflect on all that’s come, all that could have been and all that soon will breathe?
I feel the same feelings on repeat when endings are near.
how many times has the prospect of an end etched itself in nails on my skin?
I suppose I could do all these things: think, reflect, wonder but one moment keeps coming to mind, over and over again. It’s the moment last week when I reached the top of the mountain, the top of the valley I had just spent 45 minutes climbing straight up out of in 90 degree heat carrying a 30 pound backpack. I had a place to be but I stopped and stared because the sight in front of me demanded I do nothing less. I was so high above the earth I could see literally for miles. I could see where I was going, right below me and I could see the city I call home here out in front. All green, all rolling, topped by a clear shade of blue. I yelled out: “are you there?”
No one answered.
“What am I doing here?” I called, “this place does not belong to me-and yet here I am again.”
And that, that comment it reflects it all. My desire to know why I ended up exactly where I am now and not somewhere else, to know every reason behind every decision that affected me and every shift of the universe I can not see. I’ve always felt that need but the thing I realized in that moment, when my aching body looked across those green green hills was those answers aren’t coming and so I must let the questions go.
I will not lie and say I have never felt this way before, that this was the end of all the asking but I will not withhold the truth either and fail to tell you that every way i have been challenged these past two months and every time i have been in awe of the love and passion of someone else before me did not alter me.
I am a painting, a storybook, a sculpture, never ending, always changing and I thank Panama for once again handing me a color I didn’t know existed.