The edge will fall away from my sight Wednesday. I’ll be reaching back to a place I have not been for two years. Not a house. Not a home. A place with states that are perhaps united. A month to see, ride the Amtrak, fly just a bit. Crossing the country by rail almost both ways. A dream surfaced. Vietnam left behind.
The edge fades to a holographic memory of living easily with nothing in place. No big things like debt, property. Perhaps no friends left in those states but for a few. It’s ok. I hoboed farther and they went backwards. No beer or food or visits bring them back.
I’ve seen too much. Small streets in Kaohsiung. Cold beers in Phnom Penh by the mighty Tonle Sap and Mekong River. Side streets with nothing of note let my feet touch their mysterious presence. I saw more in the less but those that remained behind ebbed away into some past. Now they are gradually fading to other parts unknown. Will I see them? I don’t know. Maybe.
Does it matter? Not really. Life is not there. It’s in suspended animation here on the edge. I’ll reawaken it and find no purpose and no things waiting. Hanoi will greet me like a forlorn lover. It will touch my old weathered cheeks. Make love to my spirit and heart.
Then I’ll know that I’ve come all around. Will I go again to those states? I am not sure. There is truly nothing for me to grasp there. My spirit and soul slips through and will ignite passion and wonder down so many side streets and alleys. Nothing to miss when there is nothing there. The edge holds all the cards.