With apologies in advance to my mother, who will probably cry when she reads this.
Sometimes inspiration isn’t a thing or a person, it’s a place.
I’ve driven this road a hundred times. It contains a part of my soul that I only actually see – actually feel – when I’m on it.
It leads me to where I’m from – not a city, necessarily, but a place packed with memories.
The significance of this place was passed down to me by my family’s history and my mother’s love of the mountains. It has now been passed down to my son who, when we met up again after he drove with my parents for a while, proudly announced, “I saw Grandma’s favourite mountain!”
Inspiration is being in this place and watching for trains, even though I’m now 36, not 6 (and not a boy).
It’s spotting wildlife – new generations of those same animals we drove past in my childhood.
It’s tall mountains and big skies.
It’s a place that lives in me. And right now I am alive in it.
My song: John Denver – Take Me Home Country Roads
All photos from Flickr as credited. Instead of snapping shots of the scenery, we’ve been soaking it in.
