Writing on the Road

My camera is my pen today. We're coasting north my friend and me, the mini van, our horizontal chariot, loaded vertically with art materials and anticipation.

I'm savoring glimpses of my past along the road, inscribing the images more deeply into memory. The haze is not a metaphor. The pangs of loss are momentary but crisp as the life I remember walking in these places.

We are nearing our next beginning, the open space of un-tread ground and possibility. Breathing the newness of the air around us.

Now this is a metaphor.

Have you ever felt like you are in two places at once?