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I’ve walked the roads with drifters, sinners, lovers and misfits. I’ve cried with the beaten and struggled with the damned. The battles I listened about were ones I’ve never endured, but yet I felt their pain. In every single face I saw my own. I understood that the situations that felt so unimaginable to me could become my reality too. I’ve learned never to judge because when you do, funny things happen. You find yourself in your own version of their struggles. It’s in those moments that their behaviors make perfect sense. And you say to yourself, aah I thought I would handle this differently.

You walk paths and take journey’s meeting members of your tribe along the way. You share stories of youth, sing to the music, spend days passing time doing what’s required of you in order to survive. Just as you think things will never change or people will never leave they do. It doesn’t set in until a handful of those people are gone that you realize they were important in your life at one time. They’ve disappeared from your now, becoming your past, while continuing to be someone else’s present.
Tribes come together then drift apart but sometimes we’re lucky to have those chance encounters where we all meet up again. And when that happens, a part of us that was missing returns and we remember how good it once felt to be together.

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