Earlier this evening, I took a detour during my drive along River Road to spend some time at a place that is quite special to me. I stumbled upon this spot when I was a teenager and have never divulged its location to anyone and cannot imagine that I ever will. I selfishly want to keep it to myself, as I don’t want it associated with anyone or anything else, and it is one of the few places where I feel completely safe and at peace. It is sacred ground indeed.
In all of the years that I have been going to my secret place, I never have seen another living soul there, which either means that I am the only one crazy enough to go there or that I am extraordinarily fortunate to have found the one place in Louisville where I can go and not see anyone I know. It also may mean that no-one else is bad ass enough to trespass on private property like I am, but I digress.
As soon I enter this place, I make a beeline for the swing set, and I swing, sometimes for just a little while and sometimes for what seems like hours on end. Just like Rush’s Neil Peart so eloquently writes about in his books about his incredible motorcycle treks, there is something about motion, whether in the form of driving, trail running, or swinging, that immediately soothes my baby soul. Tonight was no exception.
The air was thick with rain in the offing, but the breeze generated by swinging cooled me off and calmed me down. I started off gently propelling myself forward, but as I lost myself in thought and the sights and sounds of nature surrounding me, I began to swing faster and faster. In that moment, I became the same little girl who used to swing as fast and as high as I could to try to join Dorothy somewhere over the rainbow. My troubles began to melt like lemon drops, and even though I never made it high above the chimney tops, I felt completely free of everything that weighs heavily on my mind and heart when I stand still on firm ground.
My swinging came to an end when the gentle sounds of birds chirping gave way to loud claps of thunder and streaks of lightning shattered the darkness. As the rain began to fall, I lingered just for a moment to feel it on my skin, and I soaked up the ordinary moment that felt absolutely extraordinary. Then, I ran like hell for my car, because even I have sense enough to come in out of the rain.
That’s another story . . .
Categories: That's Another Story