Drifter

Like so many other instances, I find myself wondering what my future holds for me.  What will I do?  What do I want to do?  Where will I go?  Where do I want to go?  How will I get there?  Who will I meet?  Who do I want to meet?  How will I give back, do something worthwhile, of merit, of note?  Does it matter to me if I change lives?  Will I be fulfilled changing just one life?  What personal sacrifices will I be faced with?  Will I make them?  Will I not? 

The whispers of gods interrupt my thoughts by rustling the leaves of the blue gum trees.  This place looks enchanted.  The powdery white bark wallpapering the landscape is as bright as the illuminated clouds beyond.  The cliffs leer off in the distance, a foreboding reminder of the final trek out we must make. 

Like so many other ‘natural’ places, centuries of hunting, environmental degradation and encroachment have eradicated large mammals from these forests.  All that remain in this place are a plethora of confetti-colored birds, small critters, the occasional cheeky feral canines and the rare breed of human that longs to erase the falsified complexities of modern day living. 

I lie among the folding down of my sleeping bag in a tent which guards me from the incessant attack of flies and I hope it will do the same against my unwelcome and anxious thoughts.  Sunshine, a wistful breeze, and a bird/creek duet waft through the netting.  A memoir of Africa with pages dog-eared to mark words that made my heart stir lies at my side, Connor groans about his skin after a day of being spanked by the sun while snorkeling in our front yard and singing tunes from the Jungle Book.  We had remarked how no one would believe we were adults, let alone individuals capable of caring for ourselves during a week in the wilderness.  In letters appearing backwards, as they are printed on the other side of the tent, the world has sent me an invitation to trust it.  I trace my finger pads over the word ‘DRIFTER’ and can’t help the faint smile that creeps into my cheeks.  A river drifts, a feather drifts, and I drift, lofting along unknowns paths but always towards a purposeful place.  I remind myself that drifting in today is what’s important and my mind is put to ease.