Moving Forward

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The songs we know by heart like ‘Ramblin’ Man’ from the Allman Brothers, my kids and I sing to the top of our lungs with the radio up and windows down. I think maybe I was born a rambler, too. Today, at least my feet know where they want to go when I get that desire, every now and again, just to get away. Here is the caveat: I now carry a meeting schedule with me so I never leave with an excuse.  On the southern coast of Georgia, folks call it  “island time.” They move at their own pace with nowhere to get too fast. Nothing opens before 10, and a bike with a chain and tires is the best ride anywhere. I love to turn these encounters into adventures….I find face carvings in old live oaks, drift the estuaries, and stop to converse with the locals who have a story to tell. I snapped the photo above at sun up….the Creator opening the heavens to a brand new day for the whole world to see. It sure beats not being able to get off my porch for days on end. Hearing my kids laugh, catching up with my Sis here, and watching the tides come and go are my three biggest joys. I bring the fishing  report too, just in case we want to hit the oyster beds for some sea trout. A darn good life, better than I had ever known. Then I walk to a meeting where I meet complete strangers who absolutely get me, and I’m reminded that I need to make a gratitude list. The first two on the list?  A bike to ride and legs that walk…a thankful reminder that I’m moving forward in my own recovery one step at a time…good day!…b

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