The comment was spawned, I believe, by my bite of sarcasm, my tear apart of what ever domicile address that I have had. I have lived in rural locales, small cities, larger ones, cold weather climes, and a sub tropical location. Now, looking to foster my passions, I look to other places, once again.
To answer my dearest, sweetest friend: Yes. There are places that I have been happy. It is not necessarily the location, but the frame of mind, the state of being, that I have visited.
The ski slope on a cold winter's night, ablaze with torches, lighting up individual snow flakes like ever so many tiny diamonds; the frigid air biting at my face.
The moonlit horseback ride through the outback of saw grass and palmetto, where the steady trod of the horses hoof could put a soul into a trance, as the melody of frogs and crickets played simultaneously as a musical accompaniment.
A walk, on an early spring day, where the last vestige of autumn blooms cling resiliently to the edges of its branches. Spanish moss hanging loosely over the arms and limbs of old southern oak trees, swaying ever so slightly in the air, and catching sail in the afternoon breeze that kisses my cheek.
Walking on sugar sand, along with my daughter, listening to the waves rolling into the shoreline. Sun caressing my skin, warming my bones with its intense touch. Speaking of nothing in particular, but discussing of what is on our hearts at that moment in time.
The ride along winding country roads, littered with the last colors of autumn's paint. Leaves swirling in tiny cyclones as I drive past them, listening to my music, singing along to familiar tunes.
Sitting at Nubble Light, or Hammond's Castle. Walking on Bayshore Boulevard, or dinner with a view of the Custom House. Pancakes at a sugar shack, the Ottauquechee running beside me. Dancing in a venue to a musical group, singing to the top of my lungs.
A moment, my dearest sweetest, not a place, and more often than not, a stolen moment in time. That is where I am most happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment