When I was a child I loved the mysteriously dangerous. I think I’ve lived my life mysteriously and dangerously. Well, those days are over. Following these macabre and lonely railroad tacks was a walk I would have taken back then. I wouldn’t bother to take that walk now though.
Now I like pretty trails that will assure me that I will wind up in a wonderful green field alive with wildflowers. Back then I would have expected to find something miraculous at the end of these tracks, something magical. But now I know that what lies down this road is a terrible disappointment, just more weeds probably, tracks that go nowhere. And the magic I sought is within, when the miracles show up, when the friends show up.
God, I’m a lucky girl. The road ahead is golden, lined with Sycamore trees and smelling like roses.
