Painting Picture-Perfect Maps

Mathew Cusick, Course of Empire Mixmaster 1.

There I am in younger days stargazing
painting picture-perfect maps
how my life and love would be
not counting the unmarked paths of misdirection
my compass, faith and love's perfection
I missed a million miles of road I should have seen
          -Indigo Girls Love’s Recovery

Across the dirt road is forty-acres of Mr. Cooper’s farm, the old barn and the walnut trees defining his property.  With acres of orange trees and the eucalyptus standing sentinel, the farm house is hidden by the 10-foot hedge where we could play hide-and-seek by night.  The fields sport their irrigated streams floating our boats as we splash the sauna days away.

Standing at the edge of the driveway, I entertain long twilight shadows with songs and stories while dreaming of another world.  Looking around at an audience unseen I enact the plays I create as I dance.  Ambition softened by the desire to have children, to cook, to read, to sew, to be a mother.

Bike-hikes taking me miles and miles across roads, walking riding walking riding until I find a place safe and secluded to eat my tuna and potato chip sandwich.  Walnut trees to climb and ride walk ride walk ride home again.  There are always roads to take.

Kisses sweet in the car home by midnight until mom flashes the porch light to come in.  Football games and cruising the strip and driving the Volkswagen yellow bug across miles of vineyards.  Tokin’  groovin’ on a Sunday afternoon feelin groovy.  There are always roads to take.

No college for me; education is wasted with my desire to grow up and move on.  Children holding onto my neck, soft wet snotty noses pressed against my arms as I read to them while they grow sleepy.  I lay them down only to look at their precious faces angelic.  His fist flashes fast staggering me back and I crawl to their room to sit close to their angelic faces as they sleep.  Hiding in the bathroom when he leaves and silently beating my head against the wall.  Cold and alone I dance to the music in my head and entertain the shadows in my mind as I sing to the plays created for me.  I missed a million miles of road I should have seen.

There are parts of the Mother Road which have washed away over the years from lack of use.  But if you carefully follow the red cement and tolerate the bushes growing through the asphalt cracks along the path, listen for the thump thump humming as you drive, you can meander your way from Chicago to Santa Monica.  Such was my journey out of hell.  There are always roads to take.

My life meanders along this road and while I have access to the map I choose to follow this path and then that path as it comes.  Adventures occur when wandering is allowed.  Sweet kisses on my Valentine’s lips.  And now I sing and dance in the plays I create as I entertain the sun warm with glorious joy.

There are always roads to take. 

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peace~~~