Do you sometimes long for a respite? Driving, hands on the wheel, windows down, flying over gravel-topped roads with trees whizzing by on either side until you pass the trees and the only things beside you the fence posts of ranchers, the occasional indifferent cow watching you as you drive, enveloped in your own world and thoughts, carrying around you an aura of escape – or longing – or maybe both.
A respite from the hectic life, a respite from saying the right things, and doing what you should do, a respite – calm and serene – where you can lay your head on the lap of someone wiser and stronger, someone who’s arms will surround you and hold you safe from the world around, where you can cry until there are no tears, then laugh until there are more tears.
I sometimes long for a respite and I wonder if it will come, or if, when it does, will I still need it?
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