Past Bras, France – January 29, 2017
The days are yawning open again. I feel then getting longer, adding minutes on each end. The sun doesn’t race away just as it seems to rise. Night doesn’t stretch on and on.
The mornings aren’t as cold. I don’t struggle to will myself up. My fingers don’t numb halfway into packing my bag. Panic doesn’t slip into my thoughts if I don’t have a place to sleep when the sun disappears. I don’t fear the cold.
It all adds minutes and the miles come easier. More days inch over twenty. The map shifts a fraction farther each night. Sunsets seem to drag a bit longer before darkness sets in.
It’s good to be on the right side of the solstice, to feel the pressure fading. It’s strange too, to not have winter hanging over me, pushing me, forcing me forward. I’m used to that threat, that certainty that I will fail unless I walk so far so fast.
It feels easy and hard at the same time. No pressure from the outside to force a equal, matching pressure from within.
Now it’s just walking.