Bent Words

Bent Words

December 31, 2020

Animosity killed the cat.

I don't want it to be this way but sometimes it's too loud to ignore. I don't know when enough will be enough but it almost seems like no matter what I do, I'll be making a mistake.

"When did YOU get to travel, Mom?!" she cried from the back seat.

BC. Before Kids. Before all this. I always liked to travel but while I was setting up race events for HMC Racing, there evolved the sweet taste in my mouth. International bookings for flights, hotels and entertainment. I made the local endeavors and thrived on solo travel. It was empowering to be alone and seek out the world through my eyes without the burden of answering to someone else. Mitch would hand out hundos and I was able to mingle with the world.

Airports and nearby hotels quickly grew to be my favorites. You meet everyone, see strange things, grow deep affinities for the unusual.

If I could kick it and go wherever, I would go wherever. I just want to see what a cattle ranch looks like, what Nashville is as an adult. I want to hit up New Zealand and Canada and Mexico. I want to get lost again on my to the Louvre, navigate the metro system in New York without a fever of 104. I want the Carolinas and a bit of New England but you can scratch Iowa. Nothing good happens there save for that one rooftop bar where you can encourage people from the streets below to join you. Just grab a butter knife from the dinner table to keep yourself safe.

I'd like to ride a horse, swim with the dolphins, play bar dice in local dive bars, eat oysters on the water and drive more slowly through the Keys on a scooter. ALL NIGHT LONG.

But I'm caged, anchored, tied.

I could run away and become a stray but that would be a mistake, right?

I cannot be what I've always wanted to be because there's no room or really great funding for that. I can't write a novel in short notice or sell my worldly possessions to become something better.

I don't know which is the mistake but it feels like it would be no matter what. If I break my heart, it's just me, but I'd really have to do a better job at faking it.

Written at 8:29 a.m.