“There mustn’t be any change in the routine today,” my trusty mule seemed to be saying, as I yanked her away from our usual course. Yet, she had the righteous force of tradition on her side and I could not budge her stalwart position wayward by any means all by my lonesome.
I tried reasoning with her, “But how are we supposed to see what’s on the other side of this mountain, if we simply stick with that which we are most comfortable with?” Alas, it was if we were speaking different languages.
Flustered, I pondered the impasse and decided I would have to venture into the unknown on my own, there was just no other way.
I concluded that if she wanted to stay on this well-tilled side of the mountain and ground her hooves in the mud of complacency, then I would just have to let her be.
But as for me, I had to know what awaited me on the other side. The unknown was calling me despite the stories I had heard, the solemn words to the wise about those who had tried much the same, and either returned in shame for failing or were never to be seen again.
“I know, I know,” I chided, giving lip service to my self as I walked away.
Suddenly, I stopped and turned la media vuelta, to set my eyes upon the beauty of my burden whom I had trusted and confided in for so long…but she was gone.
I wanted to say with a sad smile and open eyes one last time, “Are you sure?”
But, alas, she was gone.
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