There is a bend in the road about 8 miles away. It's a lazy bend. There are hardwoods & a steep slope to the left of the road. To the right, just a sagging valley, heavy with hay & jonquils, that rolls itself down to a stream that (I feel certain) is indifferent to what may find it from either side.
There is a small gravel alcove where you can park your vehicle. The cord grass hangs solemn over the edge of the asphalt & almost obedient near the graveled rock. They look like small parishioners simply worshiping your pause. The blades, I mean. The arrogance in me digs that... but the understanding in me finds what I dig insulting.
Tipped on the edge of a ridge, the wind finds its way to you, through you, around you and beyond you with an ease that only what cannot be seen, can see. I've always admired that about that little turn around.
We've been past that turn a time or two. Your little hands were always too busy pushing through the air outside of the rear windows to notice. Between you and I, I never realized my offspring were born with dolphins on their palms.
Maybe we all are.
Perhaps one day we'll pull off. Perhaps we'll grin at the grass, bow in acknowledgement & continue on our way. Perhaps we'll wander, not down through the field, but up through the hardwoods.
Perhaps we'll climb.
Perhaps we'll find the top of everything.
Maybe then we'll finally realize what's up here.
