"I don't care where this pleasant road is going."
-- a quoted by Lea Zinke
On New Year's Eve, I asked some online friends for their favorite places to find inspirational and motivational quotes. You see, I'm one of those people who loves pens and paper so much that I like to either make or decorate my own calendar. . . and it doesn't have to be for the beginning of a new year, sometimes I just get a new notebook and pens and doodle away, happily making my own combination calendar/to-do list. This time I bought an actual calendar/planner and want to fill it with quotes and doodles and ramblings and such. Thanks to BeadRaven Lauren, now I have some more sites to delve into for great quotes, and I will be sharing them with you on another day.
Today, though, this quote of Lea's is tugging on the elbow of my writing muse, insisting on just a little bit of attention!
I don't care where this pleasant road is going.
Isn't that a wonderful, carefree way to look at the world? Where does that thought take you? Me? It takes me back to my early twenties and an ivy green-gold Camaro that was almost as old as I was. The feeling in that simple V-6 version of a boy's muscle car was still one of power and freedom, but in a more open and feminine way, now that I think about it. Sitting low in the seat, surrounded by that soft ivy color interior and the glow of sunshine diffusing through the wide expanse of windows, driving along the interstate on a summer day, listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival or maybe the Cardinals game as I got closer to Illinois, I was simply enjoying that pleasant road.
I don't care where this pleasant road is going. . . Sitting at the kitchen table with James and Kate, our fresh new notebooks and calendars open, looking for the "five silly scents fun-smelling markers" in the brand new pack of 20 Crayola markers, explaining the meaning of Memorial Day and Labor Day, marking birthdays in June and May, drawing scrolling vines and plush flowers along the border of the first page of January, watching Kate color the flowers she wanted drawn in her notebook, laughing at James' delight in knowing his birthday falls on a holiday, I was simply enjoying that pleasant road.
I don't care where this pleasant road is going. . . sitting in the porch swing at Grandma and Granddaddy's, scooching over to make room for Susie and Rose and Doris Jean and maybe William Lee, swinging high as we can, singing "Let Me Be There" or "Delta Dawn" at the top of our lungs as we stand up on the "stage" made by the wide porch rail, I was simply enjoying that pleasant road.
I don't care where this pleasant road is going. . . wonder where it will take me today?