a quiet desire

There are times, like today, when all I would really love to do would be to get on a four-wheeler or ATV and head out onto the road and down the river with my fishing pole and tackle box on the back (or the front) and just sit on the side of the river bank and do some fishing. Just throw the line into the river and sort of watch the bobber bob and just sit in the quiet of the day while the river sang its song and the birds backed up the melody. Then I would pull out my moleskin journal, inevitably, and begin writing.

There is something about sitting on the side of the river bank and writing. I never know exactly where I'm going to end up in my imagination. Sometimes it's an entirely different planet, sometimes it's a fantasy realm. Sometimes I just pull out my own journal and write down my own thoughts and worries, and they seem to lighten.

No river bank here in Lexington. No place for me to run away to and just be by myself, at least not like there on the river bank where it's easy to collect your thoughts and ease your breath.

Of course, not everything is easy there, or good.

I sure do miss it.