It was nearly midnight. The sky was clear and vibrant in that intriguingly mysterious hue between black and purple where all the stars twinkle brightly in the light of a hazy moon. The scene was crowned by the spires of the Ponderosas which stood tall and lithe against the glow of midnight and the wispy smoke still drifting lazily upward from the waning embers of my campfire.

I sat on a log in my teal green plaid shirt and stared at the glowing coals as the remaining flames danced between the crackles and pops of the burning pine. Everyone else had gone to bed but as usual I was still up, my night owl tendencies following me even deep into the forested foothills of Mount Hood in Oregon. The typical tension between insomnia, creativity and a normal life wasn’t present though. I was just there, taking in the moment, in no hurry to be anywhere or anything.

It was serene. It was alive.

I began humming to myself. A melody unveiled itself and I began to add words in a hushed voice under my breath. I realized I didn’t have my guitar with me. That was a bummer. But I continued humming and the words continued flowing. In a juxtaposition between nature and technology, I pulled out my smartphone and was greeted with an excruciatingly bright glare of blueish screen light which seemed to offend the amber glow of my fire. I hastily jabbed the brightness toggle and located the voice recording app. I didn’t have any cell service but I wasn’t there for the cell service. It seemed disingenuous to even dare bring out such an offensive affront to nature but the creative flow stops for nobody, not even a forest of magnificent Ponderosas. I also knew I couldn’t forget it.

I opened the app and hit record. In a hushed tone, I found the melody that had been stirring in my heart and began to sing the words that were leaping into them with a familiar ease, as if they’d already determined they belonged together.

“Oh, Wanderer, you don’t have a gypsy soul. You’re a pioneer in a peddler’s clothes. Oh, Wanderer, you don’t have a gypsy soul. You might be lost now, but you have a home.”

I closed the app. The melody tapered off as the brightness of the coals darkened. The pops and crackles of the burning pine began to dissipate while the soothing notes of babbling water from the nearby Sandy River elevated into focus. The scene was cinematic, melodic, cathartic.

What I didn’t know at the time was how prescient it would be for me and how my journey would unfold. An anthem born in the stillness and quiet would roar when I needed it most.

To be continued…

This is Part One in the Wanderer Series by Jacob Everett Wallace. The new single releases on August 28th, 2020 on all digital platforms. Pre-Save now!