It is untamed. Wild and unplanned. I wake deep in thought, recalling the mornings in the Redwoods – the air cold and damp. There was nothing around but the untouched forest. Standing there, facing the west, I saw the Pacific resting between the hills – the brush wild and untamed. So perfectly beautiful and lonely.
This is what it’s like to love you. On a day I least expected you, there you were. We are perfect partners. We think alike. But not. In that place in between, where we differ, you shine most.
There are more questions than answers. In the beauty of this wild thing, I long for you. What is and will not be follows me around like a coastal fog. Through the haze I see you. I don’t hold it against you – you can’t tame wild things.
I live here in this tension, with what will not be, settling into the cold, wild – alone.
I wrote the above about a man – a specific man. I wrote it a time I was in a vulnerable place – literally and figuratively. But I also wrote it about nothing at all. Haha. As a writer, there are times in our lives we are inspired to write something because of someone or as a result of an experience. What comes from that inspiration and imagination may look nothing like our lives. What also resulted from writing this blurb was a novel. I have a love/hate relationship with A Thousand Years (said novel). It has been a hard one to write, mostly because the book I actually wanted to write, may not be received well. So I struggle with all other versions of it. That’s not a good place for a writer to be.
But in just a short time, I’ll be in the very place where much of the novel is set. When I was in high school, I went on one very long camping trip all over Northern California, including the coast. The fog up there is like this living and breathing thing and when you throw that together with the redwoods and the salt air, it’s a recipe for inspiration. This is the kind of inspiration that has lasted a lifetime. It has been so many years since my last trip along the coast (I think I was in college the last time). Next week, I’ll be in the very places that my protagonist, Birdie – has called home for most of her life. I can’t wait. And while this trip home is going to be hard, I look forward to the inspiration that comes from such a lovely place – during those few days away.
While I don’t know what will happen with A Thousand Years, I know for sure it will be better if I go on this trip. More importantly, it and everything else I’m meant to write, will be better if I write what’s on my heart.
After what felt like way too long, I finally have a date for my father’s funeral. Closure is needed and it’s really a crappy feeling to have a memorial or funeral so up in the air. I’m grateful to have that settled.
The day after his funeral, I’m leaving Southern California behind for the central or northern coast of California. I haven’t decided where. There is 400 miles of coastline to work with. 🙂 I don’t have tons of time – 4 days & 3 nights. I want to pick well. There are a few reasons this trip is so important to me.
– I want a few days of rest. I need it.
– The novel I’ve worked on the last few years is partially set along the central/northern coast, I could also use a boost of creative energy to get through (what I hope) is the final round of edits on the novel. I’d hoped I’d feel up to it when I got home. I might feel like it in the next couple of weeks, but if I don’t, I hope the trip will help.
– Maybe most important of all is that this is the trip, though shorter than I would have planned, is part of a promise I made to my brother – for a trip for our April 2023 birthdays. If you’re a first-time reader, my brother passed away 11 months ago. I honestly didn’t think it would work out to go on a trip, for him – in April. But God knew it would work out.
I’m honestly very unsure right at the moment where I’ll head to. But I’ll make up my mind this weekend (I hope). It’s nearly impossible to pick. 🙂 I have to keep telling myself I have a lifetime to take more trips. Hopefully next time it will involve some camping. By the way, if I could pick the perfect place to live, it would involve the ocean & the mountains – pine forests (Redwoods? I mean…😍) and sea salt air. I mean, how much better can it get? I can’t wait to enjoy a little bit of that for a few days.
Your hand on the small of my back A glass of red wine Your perfect lips on mine Fresh daffodils on my nightstand To wake up beside you My hands running through your hair A road trip To go to a Ryan Adams concert My hand in yours
My heart is open like a well read book. I don’t hide how I feel. It doesn’t take Much effort to know what lies within. The words and care, the love – they spill Onto the page and into the air, to you
Like an old book’s spine, cracked
And worn, it came natural to me.
But in the openness, my heart got lost. There’s no one to protect me, but me. I don’t want the hurt that comes from Loving and caring so openly. Not now. Not anymore. I’ve risked too much.
The confusion surrounds me now and unfairly You’ve expected my heart to crack too far open Without understanding, clarity, or reason to hope. I think you once said something like, I thought we had more trust between us than that. Indeed.
My heart, like an open book Has become delicate and worn. The pages are coming loose now, as the spine cracks. It needs protecting now. There’s no one to protect it, but me.