Puddles

It catches up with you eventually, the race, the weight of family tracks in your innards, the wheels get stuck. I sat on the couch in apathy and watched a house of cards tumble around me, felt myself carried away with the wind. He writes from an airport and says look at your feet, how they touch the ground, how you touch the ground, and I did. They do. I took a deep breath, let the earth sink back into my feet, put on my running shoes and pounded down the Pacific Coast Highway to the place where the great waves roar and I dove right in.

There's a magic in salt water, there's a medicine in the cold ocean, I let it thrash me in and out to shore a few times before I emerged brand new. There's a smile based in my shoulders now, a California sunrise behind my temples and tomorrow's forecast calls for blue skies again, the story isn't perfect but I keep writing it and that's the point.

These tracks are only to show me where I've been, they don't tell me where I have to go.