Boxes…

The boxes and storage bins cover the floors. I feel like a mouse, with a small path to find my food, my water, my bed. I need to move them to their appropriate places: charity or storage unit. Sometimes it seems like I could just leave tomorrow, then sometimes I feel the smothering grip of being overwhelmed by the gravity of this decision.

But it wasn’t just this decision. It’s been a rough couple of months. Worked way too much. Felt taken for granted and ignored. Missed a couple of people. One in particular. One I thought I would go on this adventure with. The only thing that really kept me grounded was this decision. To hit the road, see the country, dip my feet in cool waters, smell the fresh air of new journeys. I’ve been fighting with myself if I’m running from things, but maybe I’m running to things. Better things. Wilder things. Feel the wind against my skin, the same wind that brings the rain and feeds the fires in the soul.