way out yonder

I remember thy excitement racing through my veins, the memory flitting ever so quaintly to thee. Freedom, as it felt, our journey to California with a day's worth of hours ahead. For it was thee absolute summer season. The years' blessings had finally gifted thee with the means and a dream. Young, curious, days of mere happiness and peace we fancied. Risk, respectfully, not half a thought to the adventure hungry. The sun hath not risen, the birds hath not awaken from their slumber, off were we.

The hours, perpetous, the road carrying thee like a captain to a ship. On and on, lost, we found ourselves out there. I ought to always take in thy world in such a way. Past, present, future. Welcome signs, questionable gas stations, characters of TRUE character you meet along the way; such is life. Knows your name, hath not a soul has heard of it here, breathe, smelling the roses in a rapture of gratitude.

Thou may not gaurentee we ever return from this paradise. The honest western sunshine, beaming on my cheeks. My toes, though in sandy disarray, with a salty hairdo to match. Often reminiscing on the lifestyle of thee, skies of gold and blue, enough art and expression to go around. For hours, that same road brings us to such a place, and for hours that same road will bring us back. Distance hath not hold such a place, not with such desire to roam. Like a flower standing tall, we bloomed on that road. The decision, thou spontaneous but powerful, we left. A decision we shall not forget, not this lifetime nor the next.

As I write, it is June, the season of summer. The season most yearned for all year. Memories of this roadtrip and others, like gifts to my spirit all over. The sun shines down reminding us, such a spotlight deserves experiences and memories to match.

Above all I found, the journey is sweeter than thee, if a destination is not something you seek. It was living in the present moment, that a summer memory so vibrant, bloomed for thee.