|
|
1:15 A.M. - Monday, Apr. 24, 2006 At times my thinking is nothing in particular just a jumble of thoughts that crisscross over each other, my children, job, family members, friends, past and present, regrets, accomplishments, and things in the wind. This mind never is silent. I try to focus on the sounds of the wind I hear late at night, I know the wind blows through the daylight but it is the darkness that gives sounds of nature an eerie cry. I recall thinking at work one night about slipping out the window when I was living at home, racing through the streets barefoot feeling the freedom and protection of the night. I wasn't running away from things I was running to a group of friends that shared the mystery of the night with me. The forbidden time, time to sleep and wait for daylight to bring to the world a line of children walking to and from the school yard. We were the rebels of sort, ones that bucked the day to day and found the empty quiet neighborhood a play ground when darkness fell and parents were asleep after Jonnie Carson finished his nightly show. We met behind trees, in bean fields, play grounds. As time went on we befriended those that had drivers license and entered a world of haunted houses, bridges, and rock quarries all out of the lights of the city and set along the dusty country roads. This was a time before fear of being hurt by strangers entered our minds, hitchhiking was a way of travel. Our fears were of parents finding out we balked at the common life we were raised in. Some nights I find a fragment of my yesteryears and compare it to the days we live now, just as my parents might contemplate their days gone by in comparison to the ones we are in step with today. A never ending cycle for all of us that continue to walk the path through life, or in my case run barefoot through the streets late at night so very long ago. Sandyz
|
