Last night I was looking through some paperwork at home and came across pictures Mom gave me a couple of years ago of my father. With it was also a poem I wrote her more than twenty years ago. At the time, she was contemplating starting a small business in Breckenridge Colorado. For me, I thought "why not"?!? But then had to realize how hard it is to pick everything up and start something so totally new, not knowing what could happen. What is it with me and roads? I wrote this to basically say... it can be scary out there but you have to keep pushing through, you have to keep moving and keep exploring and living. Don't stop traveling down that scary road. That road is your life.When the road seems long and dreary and a year feels like a day
It's the "same" that makes me teary, I don't know why I stay
When Saturday feels like Tuesday and tomorrow is today
I'm tired of traveling yesterday, I want to fly away
Must the road be where I live? Must the road be who I am?
Is the one thing that I ever did was never give a damn?
My road becomes more frightful, the older that I get
What once was so delightful, I'm starting to forget
Today I crashed into a rock; on the ground I was laying
With all the strength I had, I fought, but ended up just crying
When on Sunday came a speed bump, I didn't know what to do
It's when I feel I have to jump that I always miss the view
On Monday came a tumbleweed and blocked my lonely path
Afraid, I closed my eyes and pled; Oh please just let me pass
On Friday with my might I tried and demanded another road
I begged, I pleaded and lied; but to whom? I was alone
For me there's no escaping; I'm forced to forge ahead
Alone, there's no debating; my feet were meant to have bled
One day I came upon a fork and had to choose my way
Having to look into myself and decide to choose today
So I turned to one direction as was guided by a Light
The sun was bright, the warmth was soft and gave ease to the night
And now it's been twelve years or more and this road I think I'll stay
The rocks I kick, the bumps I ride and the weeds I blow away
For as long as and I am living, I must never halt my tread
Stopping in my tracks and waiting, for it's then I'll know I'm dead.
Yes, mom did end up going to Colorado and starting up that business. She never halts her tread... she never has. Thanks to her, I never will either.
