Gettin' Rid of the Blues

One of my favorite books is about a girl who is born with thumbs so large they promote a love, nay NEED for hitchhiking.  This hobby turns into a deep affection that is representative not only of her over-sized thumbs but of an innate need to keep on moving.  It is one of my favorite books because, despite having small stubby thumbs, I relate far too well with Sissy Hancock in Even Cowgirls Get the Blues.   I have been in many places and in each one found love, friendship, and comfort but always wind up scratching that itch to keep on moving.  

Until about a month ago, I'd been living in plenty of places for various amounts of time.  All of these places were premeditated, all revolving around jobs and schools.  But now I am, for the first time, jumping out into the world with no real plan except to find something, someone, or someplace that feels like contentedness.  I suppose that is an outlandish goal, but it is mine at the moment.  I am a runaway cowgirl that has let go of previous perceived law and order in my life.  

I am moving to move.  I will do all that I can to make ends meet, to keep on farming, and as noted before, to find things that make me feel happy.  Today I am on my 17^th hour on an airplane heading to Cotonou, Benin.  There is a tiny Beninese child sitting beside me who is just loving my version of peak-a-boo.  There’s a bit of happiness right there.  FOUND IT.  

I was watching Lonesome Dove last night, amazingly for the first time considering my four-year-old-boy-like interest in cowboys, and easily fell for these dudes pushing cattle from one side of the country to the other.  Through sandstorms and water snake-ridden rivers, there is a constant feeling of urgently pushing forward.  I think for a long time I have felt like that.  I hope that I can come to a place where I don't.