Story
Get Away Previous Story
You can leave but you can't get away.
The last details fell into place last night, and we made our escape. Our imaginations had run wild with visions of a life away from distractions and disruptions. We had nourished this picture for years, and we believed it was finally possible. We had earned our chance, the time was right, the image crystal-clear, and the plan was perfect.
Our vision of a better life had grown with each discontented sigh. We longed for a clean break. “the way it is” had little in common with “the way it could be.” Countless conversations and musings prepared us for the approaching shift, from a difficult life to an easier one, from complications to simplicity, from ordinary to extraordinary.
Our conversations were laced with longing and desire. Our voices had made it clear to friends that we would leave—but when? Rushing forward, we overlooked the tracks we had left behind. We failed to see that each object in our lives is etched with traces of ourselves, like fingerprints. We hurried toward the future like bumbling intruders, leaving a ragged trail of clues and we’re surprised when we came across them.
The worlds of our past and future were more tightly aligned than we imagined. They were separate only in our fantasies. Looking back now, it’s easy to see the traceable links and connections. Perhaps our ordinary lives impelled us to make up adventures; maybe the grand drama was our way of rationalizing the necessary break with our past lives.
Now we can see that this has always been our path, that there is nothing to escape. The urgent and secret rush is to our own true selves. We steal away, only to find that our trail is fully traceable—even predictable. Case closed.
Our vision of a better life had grown with each discontented sigh. We longed for a clean break. “the way it is” had little in common with “the way it could be.” Countless conversations and musings prepared us for the approaching shift, from a difficult life to an easier one, from complications to simplicity, from ordinary to extraordinary.
Our conversations were laced with longing and desire. Our voices had made it clear to friends that we would leave—but when? Rushing forward, we overlooked the tracks we had left behind. We failed to see that each object in our lives is etched with traces of ourselves, like fingerprints. We hurried toward the future like bumbling intruders, leaving a ragged trail of clues and we’re surprised when we came across them.
Ask them to hold all my mail
The worlds of our past and future were more tightly aligned than we imagined. They were separate only in our fantasies. Looking back now, it’s easy to see the traceable links and connections. Perhaps our ordinary lives impelled us to make up adventures; maybe the grand drama was our way of rationalizing the necessary break with our past lives.
Now we can see that this has always been our path, that there is nothing to escape. The urgent and secret rush is to our own true selves. We steal away, only to find that our trail is fully traceable—even predictable. Case closed.
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