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The Painted Desert 2005-06-29, 8:55 p.m.
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I can�t say that there was one pivotal moment in my childhood, my teenage years, my adulthood that has left me with the struggles I now face. There wasn�t one thing, one moment that shaped me. Instead, there were thousands, millions of tiny things. Like grains of sand that pile on each other to form a beach. Or rocks that gather to eventually form a mountain, so too has this Janet been formed. When I survey the landscape of my life, it looks so permanent, so unchangeable. But I know that, just as Mt. Everest can grow a foot in 100 years, I too am changing. Slowly, sometimes imperceptibly. But still, changing. And I hope that when all is said and done, when I look back in a year to notice the changes, I hope that the rivers in my life, the winds and the storms, the hands of time, I hope that they will leave in their place something of beauty � my own Grand Canyon, my own Big Sur, my own Painted Desert. That is what I wish for now, tonight, as I lay in my bed and try to figure out what I want, where I�m going or even if I have to go anywhere.
Daddy's gone - 2009-08-10 - - 2009-06-13 Bald Spots - 2009-03-25 Empty birthday cakes with suicidal shovels - 2009-03-05 Emptiness - 2009-03-03
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