Sometimes you find yourself on the back of a motorcycle. The driver unsure where they’re going but they know if they head one direction they’ll end up by Lake Michigan and head the other they’ll end up by the Mississippi River or further, in Minnesota.
Sometimes in those journeys of byways of highways you find yourself within arms distance of Sandhill cranes, birds that you’ve always admired. Then you see baby bunnies hopping for cover. The wind is whipping strands of hair loose from your braid and you close your eyes, taking it all in. Sensory overload but this is your favorite thing. The freeing feeling. The wind gusting around you. The feeling, however fleeting, brings with it clarity. A sense of purpose. One that keeps you quiet on the back of that hog, watching as old barns and ruins of farmyards pass.
Those days, those moments, are memories embedded within me. My mind replays them whenever it can. Enjoys it thoroughly, soaking in every sight time and time again.
Moments and evenings like those seem few and far between sometimes.