Post 111.

Today I rode back from Flagstaff with my friends John, Taylor, Kait, and Ben. The 17 was foggy and covered with a thin layer of water - the quieter and more unspoken part of Arizona's polar personality.

The clouds were sitting in the crooks and saddles of each hill we drove past, and each ravine I knew to be only a few feet deep had transformed into an endless abyss, for the illusion of the fog. They were tired, those clouds. Not weary, simply ready to rest. And, the child in my mind likes to believe that they chose to rest with me, as I sat in the car and looked out of the window.

Simply ready to rest. I find that the more I pay attention, more and more The Simple and The Incredible become synonymous. The less I care about what someone at work says, or what grade my teacher gave me, the sooner I can be astounded at the first drop of rain to hit my skin, or the eager moon standing boldly in the blue sky.

But in all of this the lack of someone to share it with, the lack of a say in those conversations about lovers past or interests present, my actions are limited. But, only in a sense. I can't explain.

But you know, whenever I feel an ache at thought of how alone I am, I find myself sitting on my balcony at the apartment. And from there I can see the blue sky, the silvery aspen leaves, and the robin who perches on the railing. Then, although not completely satisfied, I realize that I am not as alone as I thought.

Someday, anyway. Until then -