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Showing posts from May, 2016

Escape

Early Saturday, driving up I-5 on a misty cool Pacific Northwest Morning singing at the top of my lungs to Peter Gabriel, thinking about apartheid, I glanced down at my gas gauge and saw that I had almost a full tank, almost a full tank in a Prius. I was struck with a strong impulse to just keep driving.  I tried to push the thought out of my head and kept singing, thinking of Steve Biko, his tragic death at age 31, a promising life cut short because of hate. I wondered if he knew he would die so young if he would have made different choices, gone on more adventures, had more or less lovers, chosen a different path. With tears streaming down my face, I cried for Stephen, I cried for my birth mother, recently deceased at age 60, another life ending far too early.  I needed something to cry about, a way to release the storm in my heart. I pulled over at a rest stop to walk it off; searching my purse to find that my passport was still in there, I took mental inventory of the clothes I ha