Scott and I made an incredible trip to Missouri this month. I loved it. He’s still recovering. The poor boy. We drove. That was my first mistake. We left the world of mountains and headed east, across Wyoming and Nebraska. Long in miles and leaving his mountains behind. I feared I’d need to conduct a wake. Iowa was a breeze. And then, we dropped into Missouri. The abundance of her dense woods. I wore a smile all the way. The destitute of Utah, (you can feel the dry desert air when you say the word) was forgotten. I was home and he was ready to board a plane. The darling man was truly out of his element. No mountains… how do you know your directions? Puzzled, he asked my sister, “why do they allowed the trees to grow down to the roads?” Cindy asked him, “Jealous much?” We drove back through Kansas and Colorado. Scott smiled all the way home. Crossing the Utah border, I asked him, “So, how do you feel about moving to Missouri?” Yeah, that was my second mistake. I’ve lived here for 40 odd years. What’s my hurry, right? Especially since my Dad and brother live in Las Vegas, Nevada. Where the word ‘chill’ rarely exists and dense refers to, well…
Get out and see the world. Stop in Seattle and find out why people whine about the rain. Compare the California and Florida beaches. Believe me, Cocoa Beach is nothing like Ventura, California’s. If you’ve never been there, Mustang Beach is really neat. Make a trip through all the eastern history museums. That is something I want to do. “Bucket List.” And every night, remember… JOURNAL. Grab the day. The sites, fill your senses and get them posted. You’ll be glad you did.
Just keep writing. Just keep writing.