Gray asphalt determined to keep me on track, wandering aimlessly towards upward spiralling concrete that obliterates lofty clouds and blue sky, suffocating life. Yet, hope glimpses an escape route, and what is to come when chains of repetition are unshackled, giving permission to ignore the freeways and skyscrapers. Carefree moments lying on the grass watching the night sky dance in the moon’s glow. Awakening each day, to drive the rutted, gravel road to the intersection of I Don’t Give A Damn and This Is Freedom. Where roads wander aimlessly, taking me nowhere and everywhere, to where my heart sings.
Every chance I get, I take back roads to my destination. Gravel travel, as I have dubbed it, is where I started in life, and it guides me to where I am going. There is a want and a need to reconnect to this life and the land.
I have written before that it soothes my soul to hear the rocks pinging off the undercarriage of the vehicle along with the sight of the unexpected at every mile. The routes may be the same, but the seasons make them different, as does the ranching and farming I see between stands of trees lining the road, and always the surprise of wildlife.
The asphalt of the highway certainly gets me to the end of my journey faster, but it's the rutted dirt roads that make my heart sing.
I have written before that it soothes my soul to hear the rocks pinging off the undercarriage of the vehicle along with the sight of the unexpected at every mile. The routes may be the same, but the seasons make them different, as does the ranching and farming I see between stands of trees lining the road, and always the surprise of wildlife.
The asphalt of the highway certainly gets me to the end of my journey faster, but it's the rutted dirt roads that make my heart sing.
| Ann Edall-Robson Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience.” to edit. | Be the first to get all our latest news and updates. |
June 20, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about what freedom feels like. Whose point of view do you use? Does the idea of freedom cause tension or bring hope? Let the reader feel the freedom. Go where the prompt leads!
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