TheBanyanTree: Places

[Margaret R. Kramer]

We climbed the highest hill in the south unit of the Theodore Roosevelt
National Park in North Dakota.  The sun was bright, but the morning hadn’t
thrown off its chill yet, so we didn’t work up a sweat.  We were direct and
steady.

Our hard work was rewarded by an incredible view of the North Dakota
badlands.  I began to take pictures and while I was doing that, I picked up
the conversation of the people who were on the top of the hill with us.

They were discussing places, their favorite places.  A man from Amery,
Wisconsin stated he came back to this park for the last 20 years to ride his
mules, to camp, and to get away from all the hassles.  This park was his
place.

I began to think about my places.  Where do I like to go to find some kind
of inner peace?

We go to the North Shore, the area along Lake Superior north of Duluth every
year.  The roar of the lake tames the wildness of my inner self.  I quiet
down and the thoughts begin to flow.

We set up our laptop on the dining room table.  I write poetry and Ray plays
computer games.  We light a real fire in the fireplace.  We curl up in
chairs and read books.  Ray feeds the sea gulls.  We let our muscles relax
in the hot tub or I’ll sweat in the sauna.  We walk along the lake shore
amidst millions of rocks that have known glaciers, volcanoes, and maybe even
the dinosaurs.

And to soothe the direct opposite of myself, my other favorite place is a
white sand beach on St. John’s in the Virgin Islands.  The salty sea is like
bath water.  My skin glistens with moisture from the humidity.  We strip off
our clothes to the bare essentials and darken from snow white to gold in the
sunshine.  I let the soft gentle sand run through my fingers and the
bubbling lava within me cools in the never ending summer breezes.

I live between these places – the cold north and the hot south.  I live in a
Midwestern city with events and people and cars and noise and political
chatter churning around me constantly.

Yet . . . there is the Stone Arch Bridge stretching across the Mississippi
River in Minneapolis.  The railroad ties are long gone, but people can walk,
run, roller blade, and bike across it without cars getting in their way.
The river is wild as it approaches St. Anthony Falls and then it drops,
drops into a calm pool before it journeys to St. Paul.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at earthlink.net

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For myself I am an optimist - it does not seem to be much use being anything
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Sir Winston Churchill