On the Road with Joekenneth

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No one knows me more intimately than the city. From my first steps to my first scraped knee to my first kiss. Its pavements have always encouraged me to live unabridged. But sometimes home is heavy. And its quotidian weight, like a barbell fastened to my chest, was suffocating my spirit.

No one knows the yearning of my lungs better than a New York City skyline. So, with its blessings, I fly. And watch the clouds inhale my city whole until the grounds of an unknown land welcome my worries with warm winds and desert air.

I do nothing while I’m here. This is my first time in Texas, I hear that it’s huge, a map easily confirms this but Timothy and Rambo are homebodies just like myself. Their place is decorated in relics and tangible anecdotes of their lives. We read about one another when silence sets the stage or while feasting on Timothy’s culinary feats. My heart is weightless in these moments. Time actually feels like an ally. And the present is a forever that doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

We are adventurers. Therefore, movement is innate. And for me, nature isn’t a muse easily accessed amid the towers of the city’s labyrinthine streets. We journey for more quiet. To a place where the echo of our voices ruffle the Spanish moss hanging from the trees. I remain in awe; stunned by the expanse of green and sky’s vastness holding it all in place.

Now, on the days when home feels heavy, I close my eyes to recall what the swamp waters taught me about stillness. In that moment life is once again simple. And worry is just another thing waiting to be remedied by perspective and prayer.