Sitting in a cafe in Bloomington, Illinois, I’m hunting and pecking on my computer for what might be the last time for a number of days. I made it as far as Madison, Wisconsin which was really the final confirmed spot I’d plotted on this journey. Leaving early on Thursday morning, my heart weighed a million tons, as I pointed my whip southward and put my foot in it.
Thankfully, at some point between the last time I looked at my computer and today, Matt sent an email about love, and loss, and life, and ever maintaining forward momentum, and while that is all well and good with the written word, internalizing it to the core of ourselves, and learning to balance what we want, what we can have, and what, ultimately the universe will present to us is a different matter entirely.
I type these words with tears in my eyes, and potentially judgmental gazes surrounding me, but I don’t particularly care. As I replied to Matt, every page of this journey has been so intense that I feel almost as if I’ve been an outside observer to the entire thing. Like I’m watching a movie featuring someone else’s reality. The only thing I’m absolutely sure of is that I love the soundtrack.
Like the hammer, and it’s relationship with the nail, love and loss are forever inextricably linked.
In amidst all of these thoughts, I saw the following;
I’m a willing participant in this story whose role is ever-evolving. The only thing I’m marginally sure of is that (though sometimes it may not feel so), no matter what, as long as I live and breathe, it’s my hope that I’ll not vanish from it entirely.