I spent a weekend in Idaho staring at stars, creating metaphors, and mentally constructing a farm-raised version of myself.
A full day was devoted to a field and a four wheeler—just me and my iPod, carving new paths in the ground and taking jumps with way too much speed. I learned firsthand how it feels to create rushes of adrenaline, taking turns too fast and nearly rolling over.
I started out hesitantly, being cautious and careful to be safe and in control. Gradually I took sharper turns and higher jumps; I guess that confidence [or stupidity] that some people exude on motor vehicles comes with time, practice, and mistakes. I spent the day pushing my own limits a little further, getting a little riskier. It got easier the more I worked at it—less terrifying and more exhilarating.
There was a fleeting moment where I was reminded of Hawaii; just for a moment when I careened out to the middle of the field and shut off the engine, laying on the back with my hands behind my head staring at the sky. It may be a stretch, but it almost felt like I’d paddled out into the middle of the ocean and was lying on a surfboard staring at the sun.
Idaho was a temporary freedom, perfectly embodied by fields that had no visible end and huge skies that made me feel small. I chased a brown, floppy eared dog through the fields, laughing yet feeling sad at how much this farm dog reminded me of my dog. I stretched out in the shade of the trees staring at the blue sky being slowly overtaken by dark clouds.
…and then people from Florida text me and I’m right back to missing the ocean and the city.
[Title from Young Blood by Naked and Famous]