Wanderlust


Every night, I lean out my window and look out at the stars. I breathe in the cool night air until my lungs are burning, and I exhale. I love the smell of the night. Like a clean slate, like laughter, like freedom. I look at the branches of the trees, reaching up, trying to touch the stars. I long for the day that I will climb out that window, and be able to wander. To see, and feel, and be. I think back to that night that Emma and I climbed on top of the roof and danced to music only we could hear. We moved not under the stars but with them, with each other, with the earth itself. We yelled at the clouds, and screamed to the stars. We laughed like the wind, and moved like the ocean. We were free.
I want to feel the way I felt that night all the time. I want to be somewhere new and full of wonder. Somewhere where I don`t know anyone or anyplace, where I can be myself, and not care what people think. Where all I can do is wander and wonder and feel free as the wind that blows my hair back as I walk down a lonely road carrying only one bag. Free as the waves that crash onto the shore, but then rush out to sea not knowing where they are traveling to next. Free as any soul on the road, that doesn`t know where they’re going but isn`t lost, just wandering.
Every night, I lean out my window and look out at the stars. I dream of the day that I can climb out of that window, and be free to wander.