Friday, January 1, 2010

Day 54: a measure of road.

There is a stretch of road that runs alongside our farm, between two tiny churches (the Methodist and the Presbyterian). Every time I visit this part of the world I ride up and down it on one of my Dad’s bikes. It has become a homecoming tradition of mine. I have ridden up and down this road a lot of times. I’ve ridden it when my life was so carefree that boys and how fat this holiday was going to make me were my only true concerns. I’ve ridden it wondering desperately what work I should really be doing. I rode it relentlessly in the dark days when my mum was sick and I was afraid of the future because I knew what was coming. I rode it when I had no idea where to go, and I have ridden it in a bikini in the sunshine feeling the amazing warm relief of having survived a storm you feared might beat you. A little bashed around, but mainly recovered; a strong little soldier with scars. And I rode it yesterday and I rode it today and I will more than likely ride it again tomorrow. It’s a very straight, very quiet piece of road. Most of the time you’re the only person on it. And in front of you are corn coloured fields with dotted trees and the odd unruly hedge, animals browsing the grass, a stark range of mountains and the biggest wide-open sky. Maybe not surprisingly, my rides along this road have come to be a kind of measure of where my life is at. It’s a clear space where I report in and find out how I feel about the general state of my world. And today I felt good. Not 100% certain or confident or bulletproof, but good. Calm. Under control. Okay with shit. I still have my insecurities, I still feel lonely at times, I still have things that need to be done, things that make me feel small. But none of it feels like it’s getting on top of me. I feel like I’m getting somewhere, and I’m interested to see where I end up next.

No comments:

Post a Comment