I don't know what it is about Fall. For me, it's a time of churning, yearning for change. Of looking at my life and thinking it's not right. It needs something. Something I should be doing, somewhere I should be going, some change I should be making. I itch. Itch almost out of my skin. Itch with the pulse of energy that has built up... Preparing...storing...overflowing... Waiting for the right thing to throw it at. And the thing has never come.
Since I was a teenager, this has been my challenge. The wind freshens, the light slants, the leaves change and fall...and I can't sit still. I burst out of the house and into the outdoors and just...walk. Hundreds of miles, turning things over and over, puzzling, dreaming...walking.
I'm not a teenager any more. Now the itch is aggravated by memories of
things tried and things failed. I itch
no less...maybe more. Fifty years of itching, and no clue yet what
I'm itching for. And time...is running out.
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