A quick post. Back home again. This nomadic lifestyle suits me for the moment. Three days coming and going from the old homeland and after all that road time and mucking about at the old spread I am happy to be back here, nestled up against the hills, sunshine over head and the clouds, the ones that never seemed to go away there, banished for the moment.
I am still waiting for news from New Jersey or New York. I am still working towards some sort of action that will do the French Foreign Legion thing as far making me forget you, or rather, in the case of my surroundings, to put me in a place that has no links with you. I love this little burg but baby, you color it like a bad cold. I'd love to shake you but that time we spent together gets in my hair damn near everywhere I go here on the West Coast. I figure a few thousand miles and the view of a different ocean us ought to do it.
But for the time being the space of five hundred miles is enough to make me happy. I will not be going back to the dreariness of the Sound again until late spring, sometime after my best friends wedding. Even then it will only be to fill up my car, to eat a burger or two at Dicks, to make haste back to where my kids are, where I need to be.
Last night on that last stretch between Baker City and Boise I knew, I just knew, that my path, the one that was never clear when I was there, has been laid out before me and it's a good one. I love the uncertainty of it, the craziness of it, the random sweetness of it all. I am going somewhere and where that somewhere is, well, it's still a mystery to me. No peeking at the final paragraph of the tale. Waiting to savor the end of the saga. All that.
Thanks for taking on that big house, for staying with that guy of yours. I could have never afforded you, babe. Happy days to us all.
Love, your WHMB
I am still waiting for news from New Jersey or New York. I am still working towards some sort of action that will do the French Foreign Legion thing as far making me forget you, or rather, in the case of my surroundings, to put me in a place that has no links with you. I love this little burg but baby, you color it like a bad cold. I'd love to shake you but that time we spent together gets in my hair damn near everywhere I go here on the West Coast. I figure a few thousand miles and the view of a different ocean us ought to do it.
But for the time being the space of five hundred miles is enough to make me happy. I will not be going back to the dreariness of the Sound again until late spring, sometime after my best friends wedding. Even then it will only be to fill up my car, to eat a burger or two at Dicks, to make haste back to where my kids are, where I need to be.
Last night on that last stretch between Baker City and Boise I knew, I just knew, that my path, the one that was never clear when I was there, has been laid out before me and it's a good one. I love the uncertainty of it, the craziness of it, the random sweetness of it all. I am going somewhere and where that somewhere is, well, it's still a mystery to me. No peeking at the final paragraph of the tale. Waiting to savor the end of the saga. All that.
Thanks for taking on that big house, for staying with that guy of yours. I could have never afforded you, babe. Happy days to us all.
Love, your WHMB
