I've been climbing the walls of my life recently.
This is hardly a new phenomen. Seems I have spent most of my life in longing and a good deal of it in mourning.
As I child I hid in my bedroom, immersing myself in the stories, poetry and music of others and escaping through my own when the urge became unbearable.
As an adult, I have longed for the same...to hide in a little house in the middle of the woods, to immerse myself in the stories, poetry and music of others and to allow myself that escape through my own.
This next move will allow me just that...filling me with that same thrilling rush I've felt so many times before, when I simply walk away, towards a better life.
I was fifteen when I walked away from school one day and walked away from my life. A few months later, after spending only one more night in that trailer, I got into a car with a trash bag full of clothes, a backpack full of books and notebooks and my pillow. I was driven six hours south to another state and dropped off. I started school and got a job.
A year and a half later I got on a plane with a suitcase full of clothes and a backpack full of books and notebooks to fly back to my home state, settling in a town 45 minutes from "home". I started school and got a job.
Just after graduation the following year, I packed up my car with a suitcase and a wicker trunk full of clothes, a backpack full of notebooks and a box of books and went to a nearby town to start my family.
Six years later, my family shattered by death, I went back "home", just a few minutes from that old trailer.
In a few months, fifteen years after I first walked away from my life here, I will be getting into another car with my clothes, my books and my notebooks and I will go six hours to another state. Only this time I will go north and this time I will be driving.
I will hide in a little house in the woods, where I will immerse myself in the stories, poetry and music of others and I will allow myself to escape through my own.
Maybe then the longing and mourning will cease.