North

Sitting on the bay window, and looking at the luminous colors that filter the sky. Internal questioning ceases only for a moment of tinted bliss. Looking out, the gravel road to my right curves, and I cannot envision where it ends. There is this constant search from afar, but without physically moving closer, there is no way to decipher where the road will take me. The last thing I desire is sitting on that crimson bay window for the remainder of my life with regrets—searching for something that does not exist. When really, I had that something all along, and took the perfect life for granted. Without hitting the rocks and bumps on the road and swerving from the furry things, life would become routine.

I slammed into a wall earlier this week going down that infamous gravel road. I was not looking for the rocks to dodge, but hitting them as I drove. Realizing in my mind the mistakes I made, I borrowed my father’s back hoe. Pushing the bad rocks to the side, I smoothed out what remained of the road, and started off new. Without change, how will an individual grow?

There are ways our routes will cross, but it will not be on Applegate.