Preface:
I've always been told I should write. I have little to no formal education. Technically speaking the last grade I actually passed was the 5th grade (I will get to that later). I have, as many, even most of us do a pretty unique story. I am going to catalogue that story here. An autobiography if you will. Blog by blog, I will start with my childhood and ultimately end up at now. Well furure now, as I do not intend to write my entire life story today. Doing this is a bit challenging for me because it feels so narcissistic. In this world of look at me social networking it feels so trite to start a blog about...me. But alas at the urging of some very dear friends and some thoughtful consideration I have come to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and jot it all down. I will attempt to do one blog a week. Coursing through the years of my life. So I hope anyone reading and following along enjoys the trip down memory lane. For now, that is all. Cheers!
This Road.
Sometimes this road it scares me.
Laid out before me, leading me back to where I have been.
Memories haunt me as I live each milestone again and again.
Twisting, turning, and daunting.
Like the gnarled roots of the evergreen I forge on, solidify my base and reach deeper into the earth.
Into my experience.
Sometimes this road it shows me.
Opens wide to let the sun shine on my face.
To watch the condor soar, and leaving room to playfully give chase.
Rising high above the sea, diving back again leaves me breathless.
I'm alive but might be dreaming.
Sometimes this road betrays me.
Fog veils my course and I hear her laughing.
My stubbornness equally thick, I hold fast like the mighty oak greets the tempest.
With bitter cold rain on my face, searing wind on my skin I press on, relentless.
Sometimes this road deceives me.
Shadows taunt my peripheral, disappearing like vapor.
With darkness all around I pray for the moon and she's nowhere in sight.
So I stop, close my eyes and rest.
Patiently I wait until dawn betrays night.
Sometimes this road forgives me.
I've spit in her face, I've littered her soil.
Even cursed her name and condemned her for being.
Yet no matter how hostile or bitter I've been, she's always been present.
She's always been fair.
And always this road reminds me, that I'm forever a child, with eager eyes.
A weary traveler with open skies.
A living time machine and worthy foe.
This road is my story.
My journey, my glory...
This road is me.