Walking a path through oak and swamp leaving all I had known behind. I walk backwards through time to an ancient fort. The massive structure covered in mold and spanish moss, build in several iterations of wood, dirt, brick, and stone. I thought for a moment how this was once a thriving town, left to waste like someone’s bad memory.
As I lay here the memories fade as quickly as they came. But I still smell the dampness of the wood, stone, and ground. I am a nomad at heart a citizen of no particular cult or kin. I don’t belong to the “burbs”, didn’t stick around any particular religious sect, can’t even call myself “Geechee” though I’m an adopted son.
But yet life still pulls, it pulls us to our desires our destiny’s. When we ignore the pull, we often turn inward destroying ourselves in the process. Making bad decisions and gasping at whatever straw we can find. I understand we should keep moving and that we should bury the past. But life without embracing the pain, is a life without embracing yourself.
So I carefully navigate the path, mindful of roots that can trip me. Aware of the places and the people I have known. Becoming less chameleon and more a product of experience; with each step, each hill I must climb. But when you awaken from the slumber, that’s usually how it goes. So as I look over the next horizon I follow a path to a nobler truth. That I’m never really alone, when experience and curiosity led the way.