The prompt last night was to write a nonfiction piece responding to one of the following prompts.
My Kind of America
Freedom. Soaring like an eagle through crisp blue skies, playfully maneuvering rising currents of warm, clean air. Running, through beautiful thickets of trees, the smell of wood in the air, the distant sounds of river rapids in your ears. What is it to be free? To go simply because there is no border? To sit and relax in the afternoon sun?
My feline housemate has taught me quite a bit about freedom. Watching her move from the chair after a nap to stretch out on the massage cushion, readying herself for another nap as I grudgingly prepare to face traffic prompted a moment of reflection. ‘Why’ is usually the first question one typically asks, as in, ‘Why do I put up with this when I can be more like that?”