The Twisted Mile

Twisting, turning, winding. I can't see ahead of me. I am only vaguely aware of the rocky path before me. Indistinct figures and shapes are on the periphery of my vision. I look hard, but I can't quite make out what's coming next.

I stumble, fall.

Another setback. It seems like the thousandth time. I don't want to get up again, but I force myself to stand.

At least this time I didn't get hurt. I take a deep breathe and look calmly around. Fortunately this time nobody saw me trip.

Good, I mutter to myself, I still have my dignity intact. I brush the dust and dirt off. One foot in front of the other and I start moving again.

The journey so far has been difficult. I don't specificially remember starting on it. I don't even remember having a choice. It was a long time ago.

I reflect on the twists and turns of the trail so far.

Fortunately, so many of my unpleasant memories have fogged to a haze of mostly pleasant thoughts and recollections. It just seemed so easy back then. It wasn't too long ago that I was moving very quickly; the path seemed clear and bright. I tumbled occationally then too. It just didn't seem like such a big deal.

I have to keep reminding myself that it certainly isn't the first time that I've had to slow down; to step back in order to find my way back to the right course.

I smile to myself now as a memory tugs at my mind. I recall how confident I was just a few years ago. Running full speed ahead, the sun shining brightly, the path seemed so clear.

I climbed on an old stone staircase. There were a thousand people around; I was dimly aware of them. I was only paying attention to the one person 10 feet in front of me, my travel companion at the time. I was just trying to keep up with him, taking two or three stairs at a time.

Somehow, I managed to fall over my own feet. I was horrified as I crashed loudly on the ground. I watched my companion turn around and conceal a smirk as I sat there on the stairs holding my knee and bleeding profusely. It hurt, but I wasn't about to admit that.

A helpful tourist wandering by offered me Purell. Like an idiot, I squeezed a dollup right on the gash in my knee. It stung like like a hundred bee stings.

I gasped. I was embarassed. I was surrounded by people and I wanted to cry. Instead, I gulped, gritted my teeth, and got up. I pretended like it was just a big joke.

Don't laugh... it hurt!

The destination that I travel to now? Well, I'm not entirely sure...

In my journey so far, I've traversed some of the most beautiful and delightful terrain as well as some of the most precarious and hazardous paths. I have had some wonderful experiences, and some terrible ones.

I have travelled with many people, some longer than others. I've loved, laughed, and learned. I've been hurt and beaten down. I've cried and ultimately recovered. I keep moving forward, dusting myself at each turn. Smiling.

I have a vague idea of how far I've come, but I can't accurately judge how much farther I've got to go. I'm sure I'd even want to. I know I'm probably not close at all... In fact, I'm reasonably sure I have not even crossed the half-way point.

I don't regret any of the choices I've made on my journey so far. Perhaps I would have made different turns; done things differently. I don't know.

The only certainty that I have now is that both good and bad, I will continue moving forward along the twisted mile.