Anchors

"Where would we be without these anchors? You can't quite believe oceans never ending." ~ 36 Crazyfists "Anchors"

Tonight I walked until I stepped on sidewalks I'd never stepped on before. Unfamiliar dogs barked at me through chain link from a dirt worn path. I smelled fresh cut grass on thick blades of green I'd never smelled before. Different strangers stared at me as if I was a threat, because, you know, I look so threatening, always wearing black and all. But, I have learned that I do not quite see myself in the same way others do; maybe better, maybe worse, but never the same.

Sometimes the day needs a few extra steps, a literal walk off the beaten path to feel that I you are truly free, that you are not tethered by the fear of the unknown. I have to prove to myself that I am in control of my direction. Choosing to turn left rather than right reminds me that I am in control of my mind. Something so simple, and yet a huge step.

I close my eyes and let the crisp spring air and crunch of gravel remind me that everything works together to keep us sane. We just have to be wise enough to recognize what we need.

I think things that few others do, and even fewer would understand. And that's OK. A certain amount of unselfish pride comes from knowing that you see the world just a little bit differently. Lonely pride . . . what an irony.

I think about how foreign this town would look if I'd never been here before. All the little houses dot the hillsides, nestled near junipers, lawns strewn with children's toys and perfectly placed perennials. The church steeples sit high above . . . whether they are guarding or judging from high upon their post, I may never know.

The smell of smoke coming from a nearby chimney clearing its throat from a long winter chill tickles my throat. It reminds me of my childhood. . . the smell of smoke from a wood stove is something I may have taken for granted. If I close my eyes I can remember being small, cuddled inside a blanket next to the stove in my parents' house, reading a book.

Tucked inside, sheltered, finding a way to escape. Some things never change. :)