Success
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JI-fHnj0lnorX3E8shcAJRi8GZ-YG8NPeQbGA4vzxpUNu3cTlXhplhi13IdYapV0fLIRxgDCPQLomUlDNBtJx2hokrYJWETD5G4xm1Jm1e80CUGxSJAvy7nUHg4Zr0pJ8EqEvps5tA0qaFm-K-40s8vWUiVyNcKDVovzz5UcCBL_-FhWcVvU5i3-1A/w426-h640/pexels-needtofly-9645457.jpg)
Success There is a siren pumping in my ear. It starts low enough as a constant drone. As time gathers force, the droning drones so much it pieces my ear drum. I hear the drums coming. They are pounding into and through my feet on the concrete. I am heaving, heaving, my skin alert with goose pumps. My heart has taken up the pounding my legs have left. It's time to stop. I look up as a Mack truck hits me, catapulting me in the air. I had been running from (to?) this point for a long time. Now, I'm ready as I ever will be. Afraid, unsure, but sure it's here. Here I am, suspended. I have a choice. I could land, hard on the pavement fragmenting me and my structure. Or I could try to land on my feet somewhere on the meadow adjacent to the concrete. I choose the second. I choose to move back to green to yellow to vibrant colors and the callings of the sparrow. I even join them– the sparrows– and sing my heart out replacing the pumping with a melody. This is my success– goin