What’s the Adventure?

Since I love to hike, I chose this photo for the last prompt of the month. It also made me think of those books written about hiking the Appalachian Trail. People who take time from work and family to spend months hiking have some purpose in mind. Either to find something or get away from something. For me, hiking is a way to get away from the pressures of routine life and feel more connected to the people I hike with and to God.

So what’s the adventure? Is the woman fleeing from her past? Does her past catch up with her? (Pasts have that nasty habit in books and movies). Is she trying to discover something about herself or someone else?

Let me know how the photo inspires you!

4 thoughts on “What’s the Adventure?

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  1. What a great prompt! Maybe she’s hiking a long distance to find a fabled horse, said to be long extinct by everybody else in her town.

  2. So many possibilities with this! – here’s my idea:

    Finally I get some peace and quiet. Not that I’m complaining, but giving birth to twins on our first anniversary has made for a whirlwind of the past few years. They’re napping now and my hubs said I can take a stroll. Alone. Quietly. It’s beautiful. I almost feel an urge to keep walking, to keep enjoying the solo time for longer than I should. But I won’t even let the thought surface. I’m committed to my family. Unlike my own birth mother.

    When I’m out here, I almost forget. The breeze fuels me, and I let the sun warm my face. In these peaceful woods, I sometimes fantasize that I can go back in time. But who am I kidding? It’s not like moms get a second chance. I shudder. I can’t even call myself a mom. I notice a hiker approaching me. Another solo hiker, so she probably won’t stop to talk. Part of me is relieved, but part of me would appreciate the distraction. Speaking of distraction, the young lady looks weirdly familiar. I don’t mean to stare, but she looks so much like my baby’s father – not that I have the right to call the beautiful girl I birthed my baby – she’d be 24 years and 4 months. I really am not one to gawk, but I know her from somewhere. We’re close now, and her hair, the same sought after color of my sister’s, stops me mid-step. The lone hiker makes eye contact and in a sing-song voice says, “Nice day for a walk.” Oh my. Her voice. She sounds just like my ex-mother-in-law. And then I choke. Literally, I choke on my own saliva. She comes closer and offers me water. My hands are shaking and I try to politely refuse, but now the tears are coming. It’s like the postpartum depression all over again. I just want to hide.

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