Runaway Buckboard!

The buck board had been piled high with supplies when I left the town a few hours (or was it a few life times?) ago. The sun was shining, birds singing. The horses sauntered along, the rhythmic clip clop of their hooves causing the relaxing alpha waves to enter my brain. I was awake, aware, but very relaxed as we sailed along across the expansive dry open desert. A luminous turquoise sky above stretched from one horizon to the other, suggesting the immensity of the ball of dirt, hurtling through space, that we call a planet. Wide open was what came to my mind, that feeling of growth and possibility and freedom - wide open.

I can’t say I know what spooked those horses, but spooked they became. One moment we were sailing like a boat on a calm lake and the next we were rough shot right out of a cannon and hurtling forward at a speed that felt like something Einstein imagined. I was holding the reigns as best I could, as I struggled to stay in the seat. I was sliding back and forth and bouncing up and down so fast I wasn’t sure what was up and what was down. I held those reigns but just, I certainly wasn’t in control of the wagon. The bushes and rock formations seemed to speed by, it was as if we were still and the world was moving way to fast. I guess a jolt of adrenalin will do that to you, change your perspective and maybe switch things around in your head.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the load on the back of the wagon begin to topple. No wonder, we were plummeting down a narrow lane, bouncing every time we hit a rock or stand of sage brush. With every bounce, the wagon gave a shudder that became a bone rattling jolt, then, sighed like a forty year veteran of door to door sales. At any moment I expected to see nails start rocketing out of the wood rails of the buck board, shooting up like popcorn popping in a pan with no lid. At any moment I expected the wagon to wrench apart, boards screaming, nails popping, splinters flying, just like a big whaler on the open ocean caught in a category 4 hurricane.

As the load teetered on the edge and then fell, I saw my things flying off into the dirt, bouncing, and bouncing again, and rolling away. The dust was so thick and I was going so fast that I could just make out the shapes of my things, just for a moment, as they bounced away behind me, left on the trail for some future passer-by to pick up. My half finished children’s book, my illustrations for another book, my paintings of vacation spots I have loved. My yoga workout and my bike rides, my hours of reading mystery novels. My time to write interesting, entertaining, enlightening articles for the loyal readers of my blog. All, all, bouncing behind me down the lane.

Honestly my dear readers, I’m sure things are going to calm down here soon, I will get used to the new job, it will get easier and less time consuming as I go along, and soon, very soon, I’m sure I will have my life reigned back in to a meandering pace and I will re-claim my time to write.