Going home, man what a trip! I wish that I could say that this was the first time I felt like this. This is my second number and I don’t ever want to put my family through this again. It’s not only them though it’s me. I don’t think that I’d survive another ride.
As of now though I’m ninety five days and a wake away from the door. Ninety five days away from a new beginning and a new life and more I can’t wait to see my mom to see her face, feel her hugs squeeze me her kisses on my cheeks to hear her thank God for her baby boy will surely make me weak in the knees. I think I’ve missed mom the most. I’ve asked God everyday to keep her safe and to hold her close. I can’t wait to eat real food, take a bath put on a pair of jeans and the watch that was once my dad’s. I can’t wait to sleep in a real bed I doubt that I’ll sleep the night before I leave or when I’m rolling up on out if I forget to breathe.
I don’t have a ride home as of yet so I’ll get a on a Greyhound heading west and I’ll have a little time to try to clear my head.
Am I scared? Hell yes. I don’t let it show and I really don’t know what to expect. But, this time I’ll definitely do my best to build a good life for myself, chase down my dreams and lay the past to rest.
Inhale the open air
let the blue skies blanket you
a place I call home is now sorrow
you were a keystone in the bridge that made the covered bridge strong.
Strong as a Peterbilt like the rig you put miles in
complex as the winding roads you devoured under those wheels
“Just cuz you’re old doesn’t mean you’re dead.”
Forever young was the wisest
smile down on me now as I remember the old dusty trails we blazed
laugh at the certainty of joy
feet on the dash
tequila and tail lights
when the red dirt settles
All is a great tragedy
Hank never sounds the same
The drink is never strong enough and the road is never long enough
The loss trains the mud clots in my treads but never ends the journey
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