Well, it does have the propensity to fuel some words, maybe not a thousand right now, but…
It was just one more hill to climb.
That’s what I told myself, and then perhaps I would find out where I was.
There again, that’s what I told myself when I struggled up the last hill, only to find there was another hill, and another hill, and another … well, you get the idea.
Of course this is what a fit of temper get’s you.
A proverbial kick in the pants.
Not that I’m saying I didn’t deserve it. But it highlighted a problem that I had been trying to ignore for a few weeks now. The relationship had broken down.
Somewhere, somehow, I missed the signpost, and took the wrong road.
And out in the middle of nowhere, pursuing a pastime that I had never been interested in, it had all come to a head. Words were spoken. Regrettable words. Words that couldn’t be taken back.
A friend had told me once that we often say what we thing, or believe, in that moment when we see that proverbial red. Something that I knew to be true, and didn’t want to admit it.
That it was too good to be true.
I’d reached that top of the hill, slightly exhausted, thirsty, hot, tired, and angry.
What did I see?
Another hill to climb.
Figuratively and literally.
© Charles Heath 2020