The Soul of a Middle-Aged Rambler

The Soul of a Middle-Aged Rambler

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The wind is up in Marathon today. Dark clouds have rolled in and it looks like rain is imminent. Porch furniture is sliding around and crashing into railings, making the weather sound much more severe than it actually is. Palm fronds are blowing by, leaving their swaying trees forever. Things look different here today. Change has reared its head once more.

strength and toning equipment

I consider myself a rambler at heart. This change in the weather here in paradise stirred that up in me a little today. The same longing I had in my soul to come here last week has stoked up again, reminding me it is time to move on. It’s not that it is time to go home so much as it is time to see a new place. ┬áThis is the struggle that comes to me often, especially being a domesticated wanderer. Of course I see that is an oxymoron, but apparently I thrive on contradiction. I’m not sure exactly what it is that makes me this way but I know when that wandering bug bites and it has got on me today.

Sometimes I feel guilty when I think like this. It’s not that I am ungrateful for the opportunity to be here in the Keys, although I’m sure that’s how many will perceive it. The fact is I am very much aware of how much God has blessed me. I also know that he made me and perhaps he put this drive in me to see more of what he has created. There is much to see, after all, and I’m not getting any younger.

As I write this today the clouds are drifting off. ┬áThe sun is shining again on this spot of the Earth. The waters off the coast have transformed back to the beautiful turquoise that I cannot fully explain. A person must set their own eyes on it to understand. Soon the regulars here at this condo will spill into the pool here like a scene from Cocoon. They all know each other. The conversation will turn into where each of them ate last night and where they are headed this evening. I have not necessarily been eavesdropping, but they are old and Northern so they are very loud. They have skin like leather, from all of these days in the Florida sun. I’m sure occasionally they have to head up to Miami to get something lopped off. What do they care though, they have made it this far. They get up late and go to bed early. We really stand out here, but when you are a dad with a fifteen year old daughter you don’t mind if everyone else at the pool is eighty. They are all familiar with each other, which seems nice, but I don’t think that could ever be me. I don’t think I could stay that long.

They say that home is where the heart is. I don’t buy that. I have a home up in the hills of north Alabama. It is good place to raise a family and I love it dearly. It is not, however, where my heart is today. My heart is one that changes, moves on like the rivers that flow into this beautiful Atlantic that is in front of me now. It is a loyal heart, settled on that one girl that roams with me, but it is a restless heart nonetheless. I plan to head home in a couple of days and get back to the business of domestic endeavors. But know this if you see me, my heart is rambling down some long stretch of highway, looking to see something new and wonderful. You may read this and think ” I hope someday your heart will get settled.” Don’t wish that on me, dear reader, for I pray it never does.

One Reply to “The Soul of a Middle-Aged Rambler”

  1. Very well said, I like that you like to travel, that means I get to see the world thru the adventurer you are. Hope you and the family are having a wonderful time.

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