Last night, I ran until my lungs could no longer keep up. The cool night air rolling off the water reminded me of an East Coast summer – known to take my breath away. Lily pads decorated the surface like cobble stepping stones for the amphibious creatures bellowing out from the tall dark grass, and I wished for just a moment that I could run straight through.
I’ve been doing that for ages. Chasing thing after thing. Running until I can’t breathe anymore. I’ve yet to be defeated, but I have grown weary. Giving all of oneself takes a toll, especially when no one is there to accept you. Still, I have never given up. I have never given in. My heart has grown calm over time. I’m less likely now to make snap decisions about important issues, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still make mistakes. I’ve grown to expect them. They are a part of growing up. I wished I could have explained that to the tears brimming in my eyes; I wasn’t due another cry for days. Stealing breaths back from the evening breeze, each deeper than the last, I found my stride. I had just a few short miles to go, and the only weight I had to carry was my own. Step after step, I accepted that the shortcut was only a mirage. That I would never walk on water. Last night, I took the long way home.
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Tennessee Martin
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