A sound tells a story

a sound tells a story

I hear a small plane pass overhead at 5:07 a.m. Why is someone flying now, before dawn? Even if they departed from Green Bay, a few miles down the highway, they had to get up while we were sleeping, get to the airport, prep the plane and take off at 5 a.m.

What mission led them to do this, to what important meeting are they heading?

Each of the trucks whining by on the highway – each of the cars carrying people on vacation – they are filled with stories.

The deer who walk across the field and nibble on leaves have a story. The fragment of antler I found on the ground on the first day of spring tells a story.

Here, before dawn, people and other beings are on journeys from here to there. Some will reach their destinations intact, some will encounter distractions and sidetracks along the way, some will be forever changed for better or worse, and some will never return.

The journey is the reward, the reward is in the journey, and without the journey there is no reward.