A Crosswind

An open landscape stretches out to the horizon line, the simple planes of view marred only by a crossroads and no signs. On an otherwise still day, a sudden shift in the air and temperature marks change, a disturbance, a sign to perk up one’s ears and pay attention because we cannot count on continuity.

I notice a tree beside me is bending with the gale. Dust fills my nose, desiccating the airways. Loose pebbles and debris clatter across the road, propelled by the force. I hug my jacket tighter.

I feel cold, though it is not cold.

And yet, I ignore the gale. One foot steadfast in front of the other, I push forward on the same trajectory. I follow the path I’m on, though I know the path of least resistance lies another way.

I keep marching towards the horizon beyond the horizon line – towards the secrets I know are there but just can’t see. I know new vistas are waiting.

I do not make that left turn. I keep going forward, because something tells me that the harder path is the higher path, and sometimes you learn more by staying than by leaving.

 

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3 thoughts on “A Crosswind

  1. You better believe it, sister. The path of least resistance may glimmer, but the road that is laden with rock for you to climb holds the lessons for the brave to grasp. You, my friend, are brave. Your strength to fight the good fight and to not live numb (my favorite piece you've written) stays with me. It pushes me, too. Isn't that the best thing about this community. These connections that we make are living tools. Thank you for taking the higher road. I hope that you find all the answers that you seek.