Driving to the ocean, I stopped at this light. Memories unfolded, decades ago. Tilden Park. Croquet Mallets. Pims. A different obsession (not mine). My life, previous versions ago. The Overland Mallet Club. I chuckle. Thanks Mjolnir. I'll take you with me. I do believe I've earned the honor of wielding you.
As we being our next adventure.
Standing on land's end. A slight bluff. Nothing so dramatic as a cliff's edge. This is not where I unfold my wings. Flying is momentarily done. I embark on a new adventure: Galloping across the Sea. I think back to fecund Iowa plains and fields. An ocean, samesimilar.
Which thread among the depths shall I follow? Possibilities abound. Any path will do. But there is one that always sparkles more than any others. That one is mine.
The edge of my overland journey, the adventure of the sea ahead, an eternity of possibilities.
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