Back to Where it All Began

I wonder where this post is going . . .

You know, sometimes I've got so much to say I can't wait to sign in to blogger and power up my text box so I can give my thoughts some kind of outlet. At other times, perhaps like today, I do have some thoughts to share but I'm not really clear on what it is I should write about, so forgive me if I ramble.

I took a drive on Highway 37 today toward the south side of Petaluma. It's beautiful country. I took a left onto Lakeville Highway which is lined with vineyards, dairies and other family farms. The eucalyptus trees spread up and hold hands over the top of the road as if the London Bridge is falling down. It rained a bit last night and the morning air was crisp like the first breath you take after a good dream. The clouds were marching by twos right above the coastal range and were white, black and gray--kaleidiscopic, schizophrenic and hypnotic. The leaves bounced in a wake in my rear view mirror and the road curved like suspenders on a portly old man. I found myself, with only 30 minutes separating me and my home, in another land, much like the land in which you find yourself as you read a book. It's like you are looking not down into the story of the book but are a participant in all that is happening. And so I felt I was not just floating through but a part of it all. And when I turned that curve and went upward over the mound I saw, 20 miles away, the city rising up through the Bridge, just right of a blue island. I immediately braked so the moment would last longer, more than just a few blinks of the eye and a breath from my lungs. I could have hung there like a leaf until gravity, time and destiny pulled me to parachute back down to where it all began.