Magic and Memories of Wind and Road
My fingers set the cruise with barely a notice. The small muscles of my fingers performed their task cued by the hum of the engine and the feeling of the tires on the highway. The air through the window just the right temperature, its scent of green wood, moist soil, and a promise of salty seas in the distance, a time for magic, and so I let it be so and I ran.
My four feet rode over the warm asphalt, my heart a mere shadow of what it once was, my eyes rose above the roofline below me plastic and aluminium, poor substitutes for cold iron and steel but I could remember, and as the road fell away below me my eyes kept level to the next hill and as the road rose to meet me I was not afraid for we were one even in my weakened state.
Over the sound of my heart and the voice of the wind, a song from my past of love and longing took me to a time and a place of my youth. A time when we felt our looks and our actions defined us, but truth told it was only a thin paper shell that held the raw and burning emotion that was what we truly were. The emotion of what was joined with the emotions of what are and the wind carried them away to a place where memories live. A place of monuments, mementos, and things left burried.
Through all that was right, all that was true and real and here and magic, it was but a shadow of what was, what should be, and what will be soon, and like all journeys, this one too ended. It was almost like old times. Almost like old times, not mocking, but a gentle but firm reminder of what was lost and what will be once again.
