Rollerblading

You know what I really, truly miss? Rollerblading.

Nothing that I have done since has brought me to the beautiful place of experiencing the almost impossible quiet in my own mind.

Oddly, I remember that, when I would be gliding up and down the street or cascading down the neighborhoods hills, the feeling as though I was flying. Me, this flightless bird, scared of her shadow, little girl; flying.

I have not been able to recapture the freeing level of freedom that I felt in my soul.

The only sounds I hear are the soothing rolling of my wheels on the street and the white noise created by whatever is around me.

I have tunnel vision on the blacktop ahead of me; anything else surrounding me is, simply, a blur of randomly, almost strategically placed, colors.

The adrenaline rush that goes along with invisibly, flying thru the colorfully blurred, white noise of this world.

I’ve been chasing that rush ever since.