Gypsy

“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair” 
-Kahlil Gibran The Prophet



I have gypsy blood. Round about now in the year, I feel the wind blowing and my legs itch to move, to run, to go... I've become a runner. I run. I lace up my sneakers, turn on some good music and go. Sometimes I wonder if this run will be the one during which my knees will give up. Sometimes I know that it will be The Best Run Ever. Ultimately, it always is. The best run ever, I mean. The Good Part is that I always come home. Always. And there's always a loving pair of arms waiting to hold me and congratulate me and be glad that I've come home.

That doesn't have anything to do with Kahlil Gibran's words, but that's coming. I'm thinking about how to write about wanting to be on a tall hill with the wind playing in my hair and running in bare feet. The Gypsy loves that thought. I love that thought.