It is 2:30 Saturday afternoon, and I am still at the country crossroad near Bridgeville, DE, where I stopped yesterday afternoon.
I slept in, nurtured by the subtle colors of the sound of rain.
I did a little matchmaking: I wrote a lightly persuasive email to a friend suggesting I knew a good woman who might be good for him—a woman who deserves a man as good as he is.
I opened an email from Sgt. Brandi and saw he enclosed the screenplay adapted from his books about his experience as a warrior.
I made Sunday breakfast a day early—three eggs over easy, fries of potatoes, onions, and peppers.
I thought about some of the ancient (fifty-, sixty-, seventy-, and eighty-year) family history from the memories of cousins Stan and Bob, who I visited with for the first time in forty years.
I thought about some topics—possible blog posts—that fit brooding philosophers more than carefree gypsies: Optimism, Truth, Family Dramas.
I thought about two men I’ll see next week, one not seen for forty or so years.
I thought about the date of October 8th, when it will be two full years since I cast off my Alameda docking lines for a presumptuous Year on the Road.
And how I’ve been changed by those two years.
How the notion of Home, House, and Place has changed. How Simplicity and Frugality, once abstract and not particularly desirable concepts, have become solid cornerstones for a life format I never imagined could offer so much.
I thought about how I’ve become even more rich and streetwise.
And I thought about the next year, a year less predictable and more promising than most of the years of my life.
How was your day?