Objects in the rear view mirror are further than they seem [Mood]

Some time had passed since Alexander had left the solitude of the motel room.  He had left it in much the same state as it had been when he’d arrived, although anything perishable would have been tossed in the trash on the way out.  Whatever passes for housekeeping would pass through at some point, righting whatever was left.  Other than whatever remnants of his resonance that lingered in the walls, it would almost be as if he’d never been there.

He had returned home, but it had only been a flying visit.  Long enough to pack some bits and pieces into a backpack, change into his biker gear, toss a few frozen mice out onto the balcony for the owl that was perched and slumbering on its safety rail, and collect his bike.  He wasn’t vanishing without trace, at some attempt to disappear out of fear of being found and captured again.  He had told those who had come to visit him of his plans.

Other than a monthly phone call home, he had lost contact with his previous life in Seattle.  No, this wasn’t escape.  This was a road trip home, to catch up with family and old friends, and to live a perfectly normal life for a short while.  His mother had been surprised when he’d knocked on the front door as the light of sunset was fading into darkness, but he had been welcomed in without question or reservation or doubt.  It had been the same story when he’d caught up with the guys from his old station, blowing the dust and cobwebs off the friendships that had been built on the streets. 

Time had passed, and it was almost tempting to move back.  Life had been so much simpler.  But it wasn’t the place that had become complicated.   He had.  That kind of complication wasn’t something that you could get away from, unless you intended to run forever.  Alexander had time to think in the days where he’d sped along road and highway, miles of asphalt passing under his tyres.  Hours to consider his options: to disappear and try to carve out a new life somewhere, or to reclaim the life that was still stuck in some kind of limbo in Denver. 

The prospect of running and hiding away in some dead end town, moving on before anybody got suspicious about the weird things that tended to follow their kind around didn’t appeal.  It wasn’t an option he was really considering, but it was the memory of his Seeking that finalised the decision.  He wasn’t going to let his life be caged by the fear of what might happen.  There had been a push to change, to work towards something.  Maybe to build and create, or maybe just to protect and defend. 

We have so much work to do.

It had been hard to leave, but Seattle wasn’t his life any more.  He’d started to notice the distance between him and his friends.  Their lives had grown in different directions, each person changing in subtle ways.  There were people that he was closer to now in Denver.  And those are the people he returns to.

Alexander had timed his return to the city intentionally.  His route passed through the mountains and he stopped in a rest area before the sun rose.  Bike parked, Alex sat himself on the top of a picnic bench and dug out a flask of coffee from his backpack, now sat on the ground against the leg of the bench.  He poured out a cup and leant back to wait. 

It didn’t take long for him to find a little wonder in the world.

Then it was time to return.

Home.