When I was a child, my mother once said to me, “I just want to get away.”
I was horrified, and when she realized, she explained, “Of course, I don’t mean from you.”
Now I know she wanted to go somewhere with no children, no responsibilities, just peace and a cool mountain summer. Now I live in the mountains, away from humidity, and wonder about going home to Kansas City.
There’s a song…
but those aren’t my reasons.
Her last trip was by train to California, to see her grandchildren.Where will my last trip take me? Will I know it?
Slogging up the ridge to the junction— no ovenbird singing.