Getting up, pulling my stuff together, making lunches, dealing with traffic to get Kathryn to school on time, chasing a train that already is running a half hour late...there's so much I feel I should be blogging about but all I can focus on is the gear that's piled up in my living room, that pile of gear that represents so much freedom. Of course there's still so much to do to pull this trip together since I was in Costa Rica last week. And truth be told, Sue and I would have left everything for the last minute anyway; we're not the most fastidious people in the world. So tonight it's jamming stuff sacks with clothes and sleeping bags and tents. Making GORP. Sorting gear, divvying it up...you take the stove, I've got the water filter. Who's got the tickets?
Of course, traveling always makes me a bit blue. What doesn't, huh? It's the act of leaving that does it. Leaving my kids behind. Shit, leaving my dog behind. Wanting to be there in case they need. Leaving things that need my attention, from bills to articles and columns to write. Wanting to pick up that geetar and never put it down again. Leaving behind a couple of friends who I've been too busy to give some time to. But I'm too tired, and have been too tired for a good long time. Somebody should have put me on a plane and shoved me out over the desert a long time ago.
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