T: Trespass

I have shared this photo before of the mostly empty subdivision where I have gone to walk/run for over four years.  It has been a refuge and a place of worship.  I have danced and sung at the top of my lungs and cried there.  When I need to clear my head, I go there, and leave a trail of muddled thoughts behind my pounding footsteps.  For years, as a ghostly reminder of this bleak economy, it has been empty but for the two houses that made the cut before all building in the area seemed to cease.  One was inhabited immediately.  One stood empty until a year ago.

Last summer, this subdivision, with its vacant cul-de-sacs and dark corners, became a hotspot for restless teens and other rabble rousers looking for a place to party or find some hurried privacy.  From my back deck through the woods, I often saw headlights pull up into the furthest circle at the very back of the subdivision on a nightly basis.  It was a happening place, apparently.

I continued to drive over and run here, but as a new owner came to live in the available house, I sensed a suspicion of my presence.  The woman of the house would often come out to stand watch as I made my way around the streets.  Soon after, No Trespassing signs went up.

I went over there Monday morning.  Drove right past the signs and back to the far street where I always park.  I needed to try and beseech my heart and body to move, to go.  It had been a while since I'd been there.  No one came out to peer at my activity.  I walked and tuned in to heartbeat tapping rhythm against the walls of my chest.  I felt the wind on my face and pressing on my back, cheering me forward.  At one point, I sensed, 'RUN', and so I did.  'Don't stop'.  I didn't.  I made it up the long inclining hill, the one I practice when the Peachtree and it's 'heart attack hill' is upcoming.  Slowly, moving like cold molasses, I made it up that hill and collapsed at the top.  Prone and palms to the pavement, my tears stung in the cold.  It was a struggle, but I'd made it.

Once I had recovered and made it back to my car, I spent some time in quiet before heading home.  It was then that I thought about trespassing.  A part of me felt indignant at the suspicion and signs meant to keep me away from this place.  I understand that the homeowners don't want their quiet streets to become a place of noise and carousing.  Yet, I felt a sense of ownership with them.  After all, I had been coming there before they were there.  Today, if I hadn't trespassed, I wouldn't have felt the hope that coursed my veins and wet my face.

I am not encouraging anyone to break laws.  I do plan to go up and meet the lady that comes out to protect her territory and hope that she will be gracious in trusting me to share her space.  However, I began to think of all the 'rules' and 'boundaries', the 'No Trespassing' signs that we place on ourselves.  We are our own staunchest guards some times.  'We can't do that.'  'That just isn't me.'  We limit ourselves every day.  I only have to think of my Mama ziplining to grin, and break through my own barricades.

What holds you back?  If you could push past your own self-imposed rules, what would you do?