Just Prior to Leaving

I don’t know what it is about travelling. Usually the last couple of days are the most relaxing, but there is this anticipation of home that makes a person giddy. It’s only a few hours from here to home, and I enjoy driving. Even in the winter. I know, I know, I’m supposed to be bitching; something about not enough complaining for Af to be…uh…sated, I guess. Remember that this is the centre of the *entire* universe, though. Not just home to Af. Not all the Centre’s minions are as bitter as Af, who definitely has the corner on the bitterness market.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how strange it is how things work themselves out. Sure, the decisions we make affect our lives, and the decisions of others, and even though “I am the Captain of my Soul” and all that, It’s still a wonderful thing. Sit back and think about what brought you here; what got you to this point. Really think about it.

so many people exist. I mean, really. that’s all they do. They don’t challenge themselves; they’re perfectly content to just watch television or play video games or work and come home to the same thing they’ve come home to for the last thirty years. I’m not saying that’s bad. *I* wouldn’t be happy with that. I guess I’d like people to challenge themselves more.

Hell, I’d like a lot of things.

“Why don’t you just ask for a *pony* while you’re at it?”

Yeah.

Yeah.

Okay, that’s enough for this morning.

It occurred to me as I was driving home across my favourite landscape, to wonder whether the music of your ancestors has a ‘root’…no, more than that…an anchor in your own soul. If, when you hear the music they made, the music they listened to, if that strikes something deep in your own self, and resonates at a frequency that precisely matches your own.

This occurs to me because of the many times I have fallen in love with other kinds of music, but have fallen (or stumbled, as the case may be) back to an intense passion for the music my grandparents, my great-grandparents, my ancestors, listened to.

Or maybe that’s just the purpose of folk music.

Who knows.

Anyway, home again feels nice.

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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