Rise Above

-
She thought she climbed high enough. Thought they could never reach her. She'd taken the farthest path, the highest road. For days and weeks, it seemed, she trekked. The air grew thin, the horizon broadened. She stopped to take in the view.

"Yes," she sighed, "I think I'll be fine here."

Almost in that same moment, she noticed the arrow. Had that been there all along? Surely, she would have noticed it. And she would have known. Known she hadn't climbed high enough. She would have kept going. She wouldn't have stopped.

And yet there it was. They had found her. She looked back at the path. Would she ever out run them? Would she ever find a place high enough? Doubt filled her soul.

As turned to look back at the magnificent view one last time, she noticed it. Another tree, another arrow. She knew this would always be so.

Climb higher or stand? She knew the answer. It was truly the only answer. The high road was the only road. She would climb as high as she needed. She'd made that decision long ago. As tired as she was and as much as she wished she could just stop, she knew she couldn't.

"Rise above," she thought. "Rise above."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Biggest Fan

-
It comes for all of us. If we're lucky. Right now, I'm not sure I feel lucky, but I know in the days, weeks, months, and years to come, I will come to realize that I am. Or I was. My parents are elderly, eighty-four and ninety-two. From where I'm sitting at the moment - my mother's hospital room - it's doubtful that my mom will reach tomorrow, much less eighty-five, So here I sit. And write...while  my biggest fan lays a few feet away snoring like a freight train. Her snores mean she's still alive so rather than drowning them out with music, I listen, Intently. Because each one could be her last. It's the drugs - her pain was pretty severe - making her sleep so soundly. These same drugs, the ones that keep the pain at bay, may also hasten her death. Her decision. She's been kicking cancer's a** for the past seven years. My mom's no sissy; she can endure. But this isn't the cancer, the known quantity. This is an aneurysm, a ticking time bomb
Read more

Be That Person

-
 A friend texted me last night. Her almost twelve year old son is starting middle school today and she was more than a little stressed. I guess it's somewhat normal for parents to be nervous about such milestones in their children's lives. I mean sixth grade means a bigger school, perhaps switching classrooms, more complex homework assignments, etc, etc. I'm sure there's also some wistfulness about the whole thing. The "My baby's growing up" kinda thing. My friend's concerns last night (and again this morning) were far larger. You see, her son is different. He always has been. Not only is he on "the spectrum," he also has Tourettte's. And he's on the fringes of non-binary. Plus, he lives on the border of Texas and Arkansas in a place that is far from open-minded and falls just below marginally accepting. This is the land of conservative politics (ie Trump), gun rights, big religion, and the concomitant "family values" that i
Read more

A Little Unsteady

-
"Hold onto me...cuz I'm a little unsteady..." It's the first song that popped up on Pandora tonight. Kismet? Serendipity? I don't know. I had another opening line all picked out (and I'm sure I'll get to it in a bit), but sometimes...sometimes the Universe has other plans. Other ideas. Other directions. And often it's right. Absolutely, perfect right. Like tonight...today...all of it... I was unsteady. I am unsteady. For the first time nearly five years. Five years . This, of course, isn't a lying, narcissistic girlfriend or a bad break up of any kind. And for that I am thankful (Not that I couldn't use a nifty stint on the Break Up Diet). In many ways, it's something worse. Much, much worse. I'm being pulled in two directions, veritably (though not literally...physically speaking anyway) torn in two. It's not news that I'm moving to Las Vegas next month. In fact, I leave one month from today with the first load of my life.
Read more