Thoughts

I see a spark of life in my mother that I want to capture and provoke and enflame. I want to take her traveling. I want her to go on an adventure, to know what it feels like to not have a reason. I want her to feel what it feels like to have something to say - and to mean it with every bone and breath in your being - I want her to choose. To have a decision and an opinion uncompromising to any others influence - I want her to want to vote. If she'd only let me, I'd take her to roll down grassy hills wrapped in the stars. I'd have us meet some hippies in the mountains. Or wander down some city street, or maybe just paint... I'd read to her Jack Kerouac. And I'd quote to her Tom Wolffe, maybe even some Charles Bukowski. We could go to a coffee joint in the breath of Chicago. We could jam to tamberines or jazz melodies to mend our pasts. And we could speak. But not speak TO, just speak. Speak and be heard. And be heard and be considered - as a person, as a mind, as a perception, as an individual with all conviction and seriousness. And it wouldn't be just YOURE right - but the whole scene would just be... right.