It all began simply enough. Years of visiting a location that left me both enriched and yearning. The visual beauty of a place that nature had bestowed with a palette of delicious color. Tall quaking Aspens bending to each summer storm, and rustling as you napped. Clear streams that made your hands ache in the sharp cold, if you dared to reach in. Which you must.
Mountain peaks that sprung straight up out of a softened, willing valley. Majestic. Heart-stopping. Boldness of rock that lurches outward from the mountain base on which ancient peoples must have stood.
It called to me. It always has. I penciled long journals full of desire and longing to live among the pines, along the creek. Pen to paper, filling page after page.
Until, I moved there, in my early years as a young mom. Stopped writing as I raised kids there. Lost love. Struggled. Struggled.a.lot. Found paper again, lifted pen.
Found love. Man. Paper. Pen. Page.
That spot on the map remains my touchstone, near the tender parts in my heart.
I have moved on, lived in other places. Wrote page after page, working through life. Stories collected, stories spun. Pen to paper as kids grew up, moved out, life honed, narrowed.
One visit to the ocean opened my world again.
Now, a new beginning in a new environment. This too, was an obsession after visiting…. one time. The mornings now bring fresh salt air, pelican paroles above my head, and the sound of waves against shore. Filling my soul with the comfort of being near the ocean, lulling me with an inner peace much like I felt deep in the canyons of my pine-scented mountains. Pen lifts to paper again. Page after page.
One day, there may be another destination that is visited. That surprises me with answering a need that I didn’t know I had. Another link in my life adventure. Bringing me full-stop to a new awareness, a new experience. Collecting obsessions. Collecting pages.
Pen to paper. Home. Simple.