I went to my old place yesterday, to the place I needed most to be- needed from a place deeper and less conscious than my head, needed in a way that my heart led my body there.
I climbed out in the wind with a head full of thoughts growing ever clearer to the Manasquan fishing pier, a place that makes it easy to imagine myself freely aloft on the sea. I climbed out to the end and stood face to the wind while sea gulls flew past my head and spray dusted my face.
I climbed out with many thought and came back with - two:
Is it possible to be remembering who I am, like visiting with the spirit of someone I once knew, the ghost of a world gone by?
Is it possible to have lied to myself about or run for so long from it that I forgot who I am?