When I was a little girl, no more than just a snip,
I longed to be up in the air or on a sailing ship.
I lusted for adventure––for travel and for more.
I brooded over my dull life––such a crushing bore.
At five I was a dreamer. A backyard visionary.
I imagined me as gypsy, tourist or missionary.
My fantasies weren’t random. In all of them I traveled.
Year after year more restless and wandering dreams unraveled.

Tarzan was my hero and Superman my crush––
their journeys through the jungle or air currents a rush.
I longed for all their freedom––to fly and move at will.
All of their adventures dreamed from my windowsill.
All night I took such pilgrimages over hills and ridges,
crossing raging rivers over extension bridges.
At sixteen I sneaked out at night in my father’s car
and drove for hours through the night, going just so far

that I could be back home before he arose at five
to snuggle back into my bed in our familial hive.
Then slowly I transitioned into who I longed to be.
I swung down from the branches of my family tree.
Trips to far-off places: Australia and Japan,
Africa, Sri Lanka, Bali and Bataan
all came true. As time passed, I ended the charade
of my stationary life and joined the grand parade.

The world one grand excursion, for many years I quested,
thinking that the life that I was born to could be bested,
until at last I learned the truth that what I journeyed for
was simply to unlock the lock and open up that door
that led me deep into myself to find that private world
that lived inside me all those years, so securely curled
that I only found it by first venturing afar.
Thus do we wander far afield to discover who we are.

Prompt words today are transition, brood, random and snip.


19 thoughts on “Wanderlust

  1. Martha Kennedy

    There was set before me a mighty hill,
    And long days I climbed
    Through regions of snow.
    When I had before me the summit-view,
    It seemed my labor
    Had been to see gardens
    Lying at impossible distances.

    Stephen Crane from The Black Riders

    Liked by 1 person

        1. lifelessons Post author

          My uncle was killed on the death march on Bataan during the war. Nope, I haven’t visited it, but what else rhymes with Japan? Could have used China and Carolina, I guess, but I’m not sure that I’ve visited South or North.

          Liked by 1 person

            1. lifelessons Post author

              My aunt, his wife, was living in Washington D.C. at the time. She heard him call out “Betty!” three times and ran out, thinking he’d come home, but there was no one there. Later she discovered from someone who had survived the march that he had called out her name three times before they bayoneted him because he had fallen and couldn’t get up.

              Liked by 1 person

  2. tiffanyann914444

    I love this. Sounds exactly like what I’m experiencing. Longing for that private world . Check out my blog! I think you’d like it. I could use some support



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