The Lonesome Road

"Their clothes are tattered and their skin is leathery brown, but their eyes are as deep as the sea."

I've always wanted to be a writer, kind of, but I've been busy - and happy.

For me, writing takes time and its a lonesome road.  Like the dusty, dirt road you see in movies leading out of town with the one blinking yellow light that swings over the intersection in the sweltering midday Texas heat.  The only sound you can hear is the click of the light as it blinks on and off and on again.

You know if you head down that road it'll make you thirsty.  Not the kind of thirst that goes away but the kind of thirst that burns your throat and makes your lips crack and bleed.

You're not sure exactly how far down that road you can go, but you'd love to put one foot in front of the other and head out of town.

The dust on that road is so thick it chokes you when you breathe and your shoes almost disappear because they're caked so thick with it.  Every shuffle of your feet stirs up another red, dusty cloud that makes your eyes water.

You pray for shade but there's not a tree in sight.  Just some scraggly little weeds that grow up along the roadside and beg for water.

You've seen people who've traveled this road.  They're old now and their hair is long and stringy and gray.  Their clothes are tattered and their skin is leathery brown, but their eyes are as deep as the sea.

No one in their right mind would want to travel this road.  The town's people turn around at the intersection and head back into town.  Back to where the people are.  Where the air conditioning is, and where they can plop down in the diner to escape the heat and drink a tall, cold, sweaty glass of Coke and talk about their day to somebody who cares.

But there are people who travel this road.  And they mail letters back to town to tell of their adventures.

They tell of the dragon they killed with just their bare hands and the love they met and left and lost.  It's almost unbelievable, the stories they tell.

And we can't wait for the next installment because it makes us feel alive.

When their words are sad, we get a lump in our throats and it's hard to swallow.  But their jokes make us laugh out loud.  Sometimes we wish we were right there with them in the heat and the dust on that road.

But then again,  maybe we'll just stay here. 

Here, in the diner, in the cool air, with our tall, cold glasses of Coke surrounded by those we love.