One day I leave everything and everyone behind, throw a blanket over my head, and hit the road. Immediately it begins to snow. The path goes steeply uphill and it's full of sharp stones. I manage to lose my shoes. People look the other way. The world is full of windows with the light and warmth on the other side. Somewhere back where I started, they're all saying "See, I told you so." Whenever I get to a clearing, a vista of any note, there are always at least half-a-dozen people with sticks and stones waiting to chase me away. Still, in spite of it all, I'm happy, happier than I've ever been, happy for the first time in my life. But "happy" isn't really the word for it. What's the word you'd use if you discovered you could shit gold, spit pills that cured death, and turn darkness into light simply by breathing into it? That's what I feel. And all I have to do is keep walking, never look back, and not tell a soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment