Road Trip Girl Rides Again

Project Blog-It

I am moving southwest with the Monarchs now. I wonder how long it takes them to get from point C to point M and back again. In eight days, I have traveled from point TX, to point MS, to point AL, to point NC, to point DE, to point NJ, and then back, but in a very different way. After sitting still in primarily a single position for so long, I feel my body more. The horizontal morning stretch releasing sleep from all my joints. The rest stops where my hands are above my head joined and reaching for the sky, and then arching my back popping the sediment from my spine. Pulling my shoulders forward and pushing them back until I feel the air flows more freely into my lungs. Pointing my toes until passers-by think I am a giraffe. Hopping back into the car, I once again fling my spirit down the highway; my mind in perpetual motion.

Next week's prompt: It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hourwhich the night fastens to all the timetables. Pablo Neruda, "A Song of Despair"