Minneapolis
Sep. 30th, 2006 03:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oakandashWilly Silver has not always conducted himself as we would like.
So, I hear, says The Lady.
I have no problem risking her displeasure.
Traveling alone can be lonely, but it's also intensely fascinating. It's dropping a stone into a still woodland pond and watching the ripples move out and away: nothing stays in the center forever. When a fledgling is ready to leave the nest, does the mother bird hold onto it and tell it to stay? No; she encourages it. She teaches it to fly. She wants it to learn.
Not so my cousin, for all her wisdom. I neither seek nor need her approval for what I do. If she wants to disown me she can try; that's not a concept that frightens me. In point of fact, the only concept that frightens me is losing a horse and that, luckily, hasn't happened yet.
Even traveling alone from the wooded hills and graceful rolling mountains I call home, there are rumors. I can't go far without the rumors whispering to me from the wind, from the rustling of the leaves in the trees, from the hissing of snakes underfoot. All these things, these emissaries, lead me to the inevitable conclusion that almost disowned or not, she's up to something. All of them are up to something, and I may be their youngest but I'm far from dense about the way things work. I can smell trouble on the breeze; I know what happens next. It's an intimate knowledge born of years of study and this is where I have the advantage. I know how to look at more than exists to the mere eye. I know how to read the signs. I know exactly what might happen, what we're capable of causing, what we're capable of doing. All I need do is follow those signs. And they've all pointed to this place, this convergence, this land of watery hideaways. The street sign says Washington Avenue, but the scent on the breeze tells me I'm too early; the time is not quite ripe.
Not quite yet.
And because I travel light, I only have the few items in my arms: the guitar case, as always. The amplifier. The accessory bag because, as the saying goes, don't leave home without it. And last but never least, the violin case. If I've learned anything in my travels, it's to always, always, always be prepared.
So, I hear, says The Lady.
I have no problem risking her displeasure.
Traveling alone can be lonely, but it's also intensely fascinating. It's dropping a stone into a still woodland pond and watching the ripples move out and away: nothing stays in the center forever. When a fledgling is ready to leave the nest, does the mother bird hold onto it and tell it to stay? No; she encourages it. She teaches it to fly. She wants it to learn.
Not so my cousin, for all her wisdom. I neither seek nor need her approval for what I do. If she wants to disown me she can try; that's not a concept that frightens me. In point of fact, the only concept that frightens me is losing a horse and that, luckily, hasn't happened yet.
Even traveling alone from the wooded hills and graceful rolling mountains I call home, there are rumors. I can't go far without the rumors whispering to me from the wind, from the rustling of the leaves in the trees, from the hissing of snakes underfoot. All these things, these emissaries, lead me to the inevitable conclusion that almost disowned or not, she's up to something. All of them are up to something, and I may be their youngest but I'm far from dense about the way things work. I can smell trouble on the breeze; I know what happens next. It's an intimate knowledge born of years of study and this is where I have the advantage. I know how to look at more than exists to the mere eye. I know how to read the signs. I know exactly what might happen, what we're capable of causing, what we're capable of doing. All I need do is follow those signs. And they've all pointed to this place, this convergence, this land of watery hideaways. The street sign says Washington Avenue, but the scent on the breeze tells me I'm too early; the time is not quite ripe.
Not quite yet.
And because I travel light, I only have the few items in my arms: the guitar case, as always. The amplifier. The accessory bag because, as the saying goes, don't leave home without it. And last but never least, the violin case. If I've learned anything in my travels, it's to always, always, always be prepared.
