The calling

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As Mother Nature paints the land a change of shade; swaths of color sweeping up the flanks of our mountainsides, my world becomes utterly surreal.

I wade among tall grasses turning cinnabar and amber, my open palms stroking tips along with the wind. Searing cobalt sky frames golden Aspen leaves; they dance with the same music as the surrounding land.

It calls to me.

Catching my attention and softening my gaze, my adventurous heart aches and my soul yearns.

I have always left in the fall; it was my pattern for years. Playing in nature, long days filled with sunlight. Yet as the land yawns, and prepares for winter, I can almost smell the sea 1000 miles away. I can hear palms rustling instead of pines creaking, and distant shores murmur just beyond the horizon.

Instead of cozying up with soup and a book, I long to shed all my belongings except my dog and a backpack filled with music.

To shoulder my fond memories, and wrap love around my heart, I will smile with the freedom of an open road.

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