About 9PM, a walk began filled with restlessness. Claustrophobia pushed every step with the urge to escape.
Off of Johnson Street, a block behind the house, there’s a dirt road with a placard saying: “No motorized vehicles allowed.” Seeing this, adventure presented itself, and the toes turned into it.
Picking up the pace, the town passed slowly out of sight, opening up to another world where trees, crickets, and frogs sounded their background uproar.
The moon was so bright its light enveloped everything with an aural glow overwhelming the feet to continue. Giant trees imagined the walls for ancient wood-folk castles–fields were charged with dancing fairies who rejoiced in the open-faced moon.
The heart swelled like one in love. Discerning a zest for life reigning at the moment was recreating a being unencumbered. Bullying thoughts fell off like a worn-out shell reborn in the cycle of youthful creation, timeless as the stars singing the moon.
The Big Dipper hung low and was twinkling down its magic dust. Every step on the Amish buggy path unveiled a new & more phenomenal beauty. The smell of Amish wood smoke, the silence, the rock formations, the hills, and trees–Every last moment was jealous of the next.
How did such a paradise exist so near to home? There is rapture here. It must be a star-gate to another parallel dimension.
Hours passed, which seemed only a minute. The light of the moon now hid behind some haunting trees.
Shadows leaped out from everywhere, with a dog’s howl in the distance. Fears jabbered within- what if? what if? –But, rejecting those fabrications, the realization arose that there was nothing to be afraid of. The dark stretch was just another kind of beauty to be enjoyed and embraced as part of the whole adventure.
Being alive seemed to take on a new sense of meaning, listening to those night sounds & to the darkness. The earth’s odors were spicy as an overpowering balm filling the nose and lungs with wholesome delight; mint, maple leaves, and muck combined.
Where the road concluded seemed impossible, for it was several miles away. Somehow, over 5 miles passed under exploring feet. The return journey was just as spectacular. A spectator in what seemed to be an elaborate dream finally arrived home a little more than an hour after setting out.
In the house, a reoccurring childhood dream came to mind. It was about finding a hidden path that was the shortcut to a distant Shangri-La.
Now that dream felt like it had become a reality. Imagine where feet were headed the following day?