I was a wanderer.
Ever since I was little when my mom panicked because I was missing, and I was later found, oblivious. I had wandered three miles from home, down the dirt road then off into the field, following the creek as long as my little feet would carry me. The beauty of the grass swaying, the frogs chirping, and the sunlight twinkling through the dancing tree leaves had mesmerized me and I had lost all sense of where I was. Time had turned into a fleeting thing of little consequence. I had learned that you can’t just wander without telling anyone where you are going, and needless to say, I wasn’t allowed out of the house for several days. Being grounded was probably the worst form of punishment for me. While some children balked at the idea of a spanking, or getting their mouth washed out with soap, being grounded was the anathema maranatha to me. The worst of all curses.
The loss of my ability to wander freely had always been a great source of pain for me. It was as if something in me had been caged up and as a child, I usually spent the entire time close to, or in tears.
My wandering had followed me throughout my life. It was hard not to be upset at some of the consequences I paid for my way of life. Most men don’t want to be tied to a woman who won’t stay still for very long. Home was special to me in some ways, but not enough to keep me tied to it. There was an inner calling in my heart that pulled me from wherever I was. I was able to bask in the glory of a new destination, but only for so long before my itch to see more overcame my delight in my current state.
I had finally made it to Paris. I tucked a stray wisp of a curl behind my hear and gazed out the window of the train. My perfect view of the Eiffel Tower as we took the bridge over the river took my breath away. Once the view was over with, I glanced around the train and was saddened to see that the locals, commuters and other folk who were on the train had ceased to find any wonder in the view. That is something that I hoped I never lost. Wonder and awe at the beauty of this world. My heart fell when I noticed their indifference, the headphones-in-ears, nose-in-a-phone, I-don’t-care-attitude. They were missing so much, if only they would just open their eyes.
Something in the sight brought the tears to my eyes and I brought my gaze back up to the window, but not before I caught the eye of gentleman in a blue scarf. His bearded face was open, and his eyes kind, but inquisitive as he caught my gaze with his own. I had caught him just as he had turned away from the window. His gaze explored the oblivious other passengers, then returned to me, a soft and encouraging smile brightening his strong boned face.
I instantly knew that he was a kindred spirit. One of those plot twists in the stories of our lives. That magical moment, when you unexplainably just know.
Little did I know, but in that moment, I had found my home.
What did you think of this week’s prompt?
By God’s Grace,