After four days in the company of newfound friends, the contemplative isolation of the wild calls. And I will load my metal steed with my world and take off along the coast. To be alone. To be with the world. To test my strength and my resolve.
Maybe I will even light fires in the night and dream better dreams than these.
The last two nights spent cuddled by nightmares strange and confusing. Waking leaves nothing but the gossamer strands of vague or brief images on my mind. Knives thrown and strangers I don’t know in places I don’t remember.
But the days have been good. Full of learning to attach parts, learning to ask for help, learning to take a break. The best poke was found on accident because I needed a bathroom desperately. And the best fish were found because you had a meeting. And turtles because you saw me ride by. And winning games was easier to do because you had to go home.
The people of this land are giving and good. They ask where you are from not to judge, but to see your roots. To know what kind of tree you are. I have learned that answers given truthfully yield kindness and generosity. I have learned of costal roads and where not to go and been offered food for nothing in return.
Salt on my skin washed off by the rain that didn’t fall near as often as I thought. And on the morning of departure, hugs are warm but the air has a chill in it. And a distant piece of me thinks — I could find myself here someday. Perhaps, should the trade winds catch me.
Either way, we agree. We’ll see each other on the road at some point. Who knows where, when, or why. But chance meetings made good stories, and I am in love with both.