The Orphan I Am Chronicles- 14

She appears lost in thought, unaware of what is taking place around her. But she is more than aware, conscious of the most overlooked details, she focuses on a place most would never see. She stands with her arms resting along the rail, her face fixed outward, just beyond the point where the water meets the horizon.

On one of her fingers, a hemp ring a friend made so long ago, around her neck, a thin leather cord which holds a tiny silver vial, what it holds she only knows and cherishes. The silver is no longer polished, the hemp ring worn and soft. You have to look hard to see if she wears makeup, she wears little, she needs none.

Priceless are the sandals, the worn faded jeans she wears. Her reflecting on her past, fuels her drive to again disappear. To remain in one place is suffocating, it is in her nature to live as a gypsy, to take steps unaware of the challenges that lay ahead. But she welcomes it, she is Jack Kerouac’s On The Road, but on a grander scale. The people she meets, the experience’s she enjoy and those she does not, is her slice of the pie, with and without the ice cream.

Before parting she takes a last look around, she inhales all that is around her and savours it. With a long exhale and a slight smile, she pushes away from the railing. She bends slightly, her guitar in one hand and her bag in another. As the sun sets here, she goes to a place where she will stand and enjoy its rise. Where the wind will toy with her hair again, where more miles will be beneath her sandals and then she will be quite content, for now.

Oh how I admire her.

~ by tonekinchloe on August 26, 2011.

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