It is coming again next week, so this week I begin to prepare. Traveling can be a haphazard affair when it is forced on you or can involve obsessive planning even for a short trip.
In my case, a planned trip, this one being in parts, first relatively short and the second very long indeed. So with a few days to prepare, the first thing on the agenda is to step up the mileage swimming to make up the difference when the exercises might be more aerobic in nature.
Next is lining up the massive amounts of work that have to be finished before the trip and those afterwards. There are the projects to take. Just trying to pick one is a problem. Prioritizing the things since everything cannot be done in a lifetime is a problem.
Then there is the weather, the strange weather. What to wear when you have to plan over two weeks, when you only have estimates, but you know they are going to be light.
Light, travel light. Ah for the old days, a motorcycle, a backpack on a specially designed rack welded under the most unearthly conditions to the back. You had what you wore and what would fit in the back pack, part of which had hand tools, a sleeping bag and a small tent. That was traveling alone, that was being one with the road. That is in the past.
Call to me from the past
Call to me open road
Remind me what you are
Forever beckoning me
Return to the past
embrace the freedom
of having nothing
and having nothing to lose
I reach for the past
in the night just before I wake up
I can almost feel it
I cry out its name
but it is just out of reach
the past is somewhere
that i can no longer see
it vanishes like a mist
when i wrap my arms
around where i think it lies
Come to me I say in return
to the siren song of the past
I am waiting for you still
But when I follow its voice
it is nothing but memories
One day will you be there
One day will I embrace you
One day will the road be free
and will i travel on it freely
but for now, it is the future
and the future is a long road
I will be traveling alone
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