The Kiss

Did you ever travel after your own words?  Say or write something and then discover that what you conjured up can be followed and then new paths discovered.

It’s as if I expose something new when I trail behind my words -picking up pieces and seamlessly fitting them together.

Recently I wrote about a dip in a road— not a new road or a flat road, but one that was pock marked, weathered, and tilted.

I unearthed a memory. Brushed it off  and rotated it so I glimpsed all facets. The road dipped  into a manmade holler and up again to flat ground. In that dip between I found myself. A short intimate moment. And when I read the words I wrote , looking at myself looking at me I followed my words to the end of that path.

I had found a missing puzzle piece.