Blurred

Long-Distance Medical Transport
A journey of a thousand miles, and ten thousand more, have blurred over time. Nine years between those lines and not a day was the same. Seven states, between one and four, the sun has yet to greet the shore. Nine and ten, driving in late, forget that date. Sleep is a juggling-act, and the road the only constant.
Then the picture starts to come into focus, almost, the travel dust begins to clear. I’ll be handing over the keys for a different kind of year.
Last day! Friday! 🚐

💚💚
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💚💚😊
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Congratulations on reaching the end of the journey. How will you rest and unpack?
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The beach sounds nice… 😃 Thank you so much!! 😊🙏
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Intriguing.
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😊😊🙏
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A wonderful poem and a curious story that leaves me wondering. ❤️
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My last day of Medical Transport driving is Friday. Thank you John! 😊😊🙏
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Oh, okay, I knew there was more to this story! I’m glad that you had safe travels during this time, Beth.
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Thank you John, I’m very grateful for safe travels too.
So many miles 😊
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I’ll bet that you racked up 100K in those years.
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I wish now, that I had kept track. I’m sure it is 100k, easy.
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This reminds me of the old song by the Allman Brothers that says I was born a ramblin man.
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Aw perfect song! And:
😊
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😊❤️
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amazing 😀 love it! 🙂 perfect!
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Thank you Carol Anne 😊😊🙏
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Very interesting shot and poem 🙂
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Thank you 😊😊🙏
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Reblogged this on Jasta's Poetry Blog and commented:
ON my first mile …
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Thank you! 😊😊😊
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