The Stream Of My Mind

The light is fading. And no matter how hard I try to move forward, I stand concrete in the driveway.

My mind, falling--falling back. Somehow, I land in a pile of leaves and all of a sudden I'm 7 again and it's time for dinner. It's time for life and laughter and aworld with out death and pain. And in that world no matter how much it rains, the joy of being innocent is never clouded or rerouted by fear.

My mind, falling--falling down. Somehow, I pick myself up and I continue chasing my brother. Through the woods to the ledge that's always sunny-past the field to our fort where we are pirates and explorers and everything that is good. And as we feel the wind and watch the trees blow we live like giants because we are heros in our fortress of childhood.

My mind, falling--falling forward. Somehow, I crawl into a bed that in my little world is my haven. And I hug my bunny and my giraffe and I feel the warmth of my mother who sings me to sleep. I hear her voice and the locust outside and I know that I am loved. My little eyes flutter as I drift and I glide peacefully into a realm of dreams and images of things I want to become when I grow up.

My mind, races--races through all of the traces of where I wondered and where I lived. The smell of damp grass and the way the trees look right before they turn from summer to fall. In that moment, I am riding with my head out the window to soccer and my heart is beating so fast I think I might fly. And when I get home my dad places the final spring in the trampoline and I jump until I feel like I might die. I am wildly free and I roll down the basement stairs to my fortress of toys and the boys I have to play with because they are my brother's friends from church. And when I climb back to the top of the stairs I feel the cold tile beneath my bare feet as my mother scoops me up and wraps me in her pink Chanel robe. In that robe, she teaches me about God and Jesus and Heaven and I believe her because she is those things and I want to be them too. She is filled with life and love and she always makes me feel happy. She teaches me to sing and we dance to tambourines and the music that my dad plays. And our family always feels alive and I feel safe. And on Friday's people fill our house but we wait in the tree and watch them as they walk through the yard because this house is our home and these trees are our world. A world that stretches across a field to a church where my daddy preaches and where I feel like I have a family that will always be there. A place that becomes my playground yet my sanctuary, my adventure yet my safety. And as the sun sets we make our hand prints in the curb and as we run and look back I feel like I will be here forever.

All of a sudden my mind is still-finally still. Somehow, I am present in a moment where I am 22 and in a tree that seems so much bigger, yet smaller. I stare at a house that is no longer my home. The light disappears and I can no longer tell if the coolness on my face is brought by tears or rain drops.

I load up the last of my belongings, and I pull out of my driveway for the last time, alone.

I say goodbye to my home of 17 years. And as I see its silhouette in the fog, it seems perfect. Somehow I realize that I am saying goodbye to a home that always gave me a glimpse of what it will be like one day. In this moment, I am brought to a place where my mom sings, my dad plays and my brother and I build forts and climb trees. A place to awake, chase and infinitely land. A place where the ledges are always sunny and the locust are always humming. A place where we can truly fly and jump so high and never die. A place where the auditorium is full again, and Ira is singing "Oh Praise the Lord."