clouds away

i like to fancy myself a wanderer- though i suppose i haven't always thought as such. after the first grade, our family couldn't seem to stay in one place long enough for me to keep friends longer than one year. at first, i hated the constant change, the insecurity, the inability to trust anyone but myself. but somewhere along the way i grew to love it- need it- rely on it as my very breath. we were nomads, keeping to our own quiet ways, spinning stories and dreaming dreams. each new territory was a new opportunity, a white canvas, a blank page begging to be colored by my already ink-stained hands.

there is, at once, a feeling of exhilaration and a sense of peace every time i embark on a new adventure. i climb into the passenger seat, rest my chin on the edge of the window, and watch the power lines dance across the sky.

and suddenly i'm eight again. spinning stories. dreaming dreams.