The Turn-around Road

Out past the farms, beyond the woods, at the edge of civilization is the Turn-around Road. I can see the mandalas cut in the dirt by those who double back time and time again, turned back by the ragged red cliffs and the signs warning Don’t Throw Rocks – Danger.

There are snakes I’ve been warned about; rattlers in the roundabout. But, I feel steady, light and empty. I wait in the rock garden at the Turn-around Road. Danger pervades, but rolls off me in waves.

I gather my strength as I wait in the sun. They’ll be here soon. The weeks have been hazy but something has changed. I can see clearly here, at the Turn-around Road.

“I’m ready,” I say to the wind, to the sun.

The winds shift, the sun convinces the weakest clouds to let it through. I like things moving. I hear a shift, a brooding coming from the heather.

“You’re here. Finally,” I say, standing and welcoming the Danger. “I’ve missed you so, here at the Turn-around Road.”

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