Trip of Mirrors
Twenty five hundred miles or so.
Highways. Country roads. Cities. Towns.
A journey more familiar than you expected,
Dinner, a deep sleep, and on another road.
Just enough to feel connected again.
Children. Children to be. Sisters,
Cousins, Nieces, Old friends. New friends.
A voyeur, night after night
into their lives, learning with each conversation,
something new. Joyous at times. Or raw.
It was a history lesson, this trip.
Every town with its snippet of your past.
You had never realized just how many places
you had left your mark, or how many
have left theirs on you, a trip of details
and memories of just how old you are,
and how worn. A trip of mirrors,
remembering more of the journey
than you are accustomed to seeing
at once. A little overwhelming.
a little comforting,
knowing what you have done, what you built,
knowing that your failures were only temporary,
and even those dark times had their purpose
even if you did not see it until heartbreaks later.
A bit much, this trip of mirrors, but all the same,
a journey worth making.
A journey worth returning home from,
About this poem
I have just come home from a circle of life kind of trip. From here to Florida, via half a dozen states, visiting family and friends and making a new friend. Savoring a taste of all their lives. And so many hours on the road passing places that have been part of my journey, realizing just how rich a journey it has been, good and often, rough. It was a good trip, and like all good trips, you come back changed. The emotions are a bit much. I am still processing it all. You will likely see some of that processing here over the next few days as I get back into my spiritual discipline of writing.
I have no idea where the photo came from. Obviously it is not one of mine. But I have carried it in my phone for ages. It describes so well how I feel about myself.
Hard journeys but important.