The Queen's Highway - A memory from Gulf Wars XXVI

As I walk down the weathered path of the Queen's Highway, I hear the revel going strong and find myself in deep contemplation.

My thoughts, bloated with melancholy, agitate my mood and take me further into the symbolic darkness as I plod along to a rhythm driven by the tap of my walking stick on the literal dark road before me.

Shadows move ahead in the swirling haze of dusk. Some fall behind. Some move ahead. One is always there but never seen, remembered with fondness, following.

Whispering in the subconscious void of my mind...it is my voice.

'Is this your path?'

I am tested on the field, an awesome day and excellent trial. But, doubt surfaces. Maybe I am done.

'Is this your path?'

Well respected voices around a campfire provide sound counsel. My heart and mind are bolstered. But the doubt in the darkness, always there...persistently.

'Is this your path?'

An Earl of our land reminds us we all follow our own path as we raise up one of our own. I find myself tested in body and soul as I struggle to find my footing in the ravine. The day, for me, ends poorly, the melancholia returns.

'Is this your path?!'

More sound council around a campfire. This time its my voice joining in discussion. We each have our own path. Sometimes alone. Sometimes in company. The path is of our own making...

'Is this your path?!'

The dilemma. Right path? Wrong path? Uncertainty.

'Is this your path?...'

I plod to the field again. Reluctant. Unsure and unsteady. Brothers in arms bolster my resolve. Provide me purpose. A good day.

'Is it my path?'

Unexpectedly, a respected hand reaches from the gloom and offers to be my guide. Oaths exchanged.

'IT IS MY PATH.'

Euphoric, I return to the Queens Highway. My gait strong. I stand a little taller. My burden not as heavy.

I hear a familiar, deep, joyous, laugh from the distant shadows filling me with comfort.