The Road is Long.

On my long drives over the last couple of years I've noticed how much kinder drivers have become.

On these journeys I listen to the radio a little sometimes. 

South Africans rush sentences.  I can't usually stand a talk show, but I did like the hostess on the one I heard today. 

She didn't rush her words.  I imagined her in velvet, but it's too hot for that. I imagined her in red and burnt sienna, but she probably wore black, the city dress code, but at least, high heels, expressive hands, large eyes, a generous mouth; slow to smile, but when she does, its a good one. 

If she's a South African, she grew up somewhere else.  

Her lovely unhurried words rolled out like the carpet of green hills that adorn this long, lonely road. 

The Afrikaans station is always a cuddly alternative. When she stopped speaking I went there.  The afternoon host gets us to talk about odd things. Today his topic was how we respond to the loss of our pets.  There was this fellow, not a young man, who spoke about his loss, of the funeral and the Bible and the prayers.

Is this a South African thing?  Our gardens are littered with graves of birds, mice, cats, dogs and remember-when's of funerals mit prayers and mourning.

It's really hotter than I remember. The air conditioner wasn't enough.  Less hitch hikers hung on the curbs. No meandering either.  Even the mysterious lady who hikes from this one small place to almost another, no matter what, sat under the thatched picnic spot shelter lifting her hand as she does. 

It doesn't matter if I am coming or going, she's on the road. 

She wears clothes that remind me of the sixties. Her hair is tied up with a long, glossy fringe just above large dark glasses.

Some stories are best untold.

I heard them tell of traffic snags in the city I used to live in.  Were they were listening to the same radio stations?  What did the lamp post headlines say today?  I do miss those. 

The radio's news is mostly worrying, but then some sane voice comes to comfort. Hope springs eternal and I dream that this too shall pass.  Everything will be just fine, in a while... We'll get it before it gets us. All will be well. 

Thunder. A breeze has risen.  I am far from slumber. My book went walk about so I am at a loss.  I can't sit here all night, as I fear I might, if I do not leave now. 

May tomorrow find us mellow with voices that comfort. And, may the dawn bring a loveliness to lift us to new highs.  May we find our goodness within and awake kindness. The road is long.

Think happy thoughts, my lovelies.