Carry on, Georgie

I take another step forward, but find harsh resistance when I try to lift my leg back up. Mud. Another day, another indignity. This slog was without an end. At least, that’s how it feels at times when this goal of mine is nowhere to be seen. But then again… shouldn’t the journey be part of the fun along the way. Day by day, I’m not so sure. I lumber forward regardless. One step forward at a time, picking up and carrying along whatever I can find that might aid me as I swallow back the urge to stop. Within this added weight, there remains an imbalance; a feeling that won’t ever leave, no matter what I collect. Sometimes, I lose more than I gain.

Eventually escaping the mud, the trail turns to hard rock as I reach the base of the mountains. A reprieve, however small, is most welcome. For now, the worry of getting stuck is quickly replaced by that of tripping and falling. One fear fades just so that others might have their own chance in front of the spotlight. A single misstep could be costly. I calmly remind myself that there is a reward at the end of this trail if I can muster the strength to keep going. But something that had once seemed so real, now feels fake. A fabrication of my own misguided ambitions coated in a shiny, faux veneer. So then, what happens if this trail leads to nothing? Or worse yet, I never even reach an end? What then… is left?

Rocky terrain gradually transitions back to soft dirt and as the air becomes hot and dense, I begin to feel more weight pushing down upon myself and everything underneath the sun’s gaze. Another addition to what I already carry. I remind myself that I am making ground or at least, I think I am. I turn back to see the mountains that have now grown distant. Though the distance is clearly visible, it’s impossible to know where I am relative to where I’m headed. Whether or not I will reach my goal, I am certain none of the answers I seek lie behind me.