Tag Archives: Quantum Leaper

I Am Calling You

It started with an inkling that got crossways in my mind. After it came, everything else coursed around it like a stream does round a wind-fallen tree. I dodged it long as I could, you know—the plates needed to be stacked by size, there was dust on the door-tops—but it was alive and burrowing in until all my thinking began to pile up against it like water before a dam. There it was calling me “Time to go.” It was the essence in the lilac scented air, the verve in the spring green of the new leaves coming on, it was the song spun by the river swelled full and rushing by. It started as an itch to scratch but with the first touch it pulled me in, wound everyday with a beanstalk of desire until I was crazy wild to go.  Only—except—but still—I was afraid.  I stalled.  And the pastel spring passed, as did the watercolor summer, and autumn, layered like the oil painting of a master in russet and gold, left me alone and exposed cowering in fear before the ravages of winter.
I had made my intentions clear, said that I was leaving and going West; the canoe was in the river, so to speak, and caught-up by the current, there was no way to paddle up the rapids.  At last, with Christmas approaching and the blizzards out of Canada descending upon Lake Superior-land, it was passed time to go.  I had to leave now. The calling was deafening, self-loathing at my inaction and cowardice had reached a