05

Run in May. 

The itch spreads. At every quiet moment it roars up behind you and whispers of endless horizons and packed bags. You remember again the lightness of not owning more than TSA will allow you to carry, you smile at images of unknown lands. Check your bank account and tally pennies. What recently seemed like a threat in the back of your spine turns into a promise.

These roots, they tie me down, they wrap around my limbs and lungs until I suffocate and I have too much life left to live to succumb to them.

Spring returns.

I'm wide awake.