The Get to Going

Sometimes there is a part of me that wishes she could run away. I've been listening to the sound of the rain tonight, watching the curtains billowing in, and then out again with the current of the wind beneath their folds. There is a damp freshness in the air, reminiscent of the smell of spring, foretelling of new beginnings.

The walls feel small tonight. As if they're closing in, despite my vain attempts to fight for space. It's not often that being home seems wrong, and yet tonight, a million miles away doesn't seem quite far enough. Perhaps there are just other places I wish myself to be.

And going to sleep seems like such a waste of time, with all these thoughts racing around my head demanding action. I am like the parachuter quite unready but willing to jump all the same. Perhaps all we ever really need is just a starting shove ...