collects slightly damaged strays
- Oct 22, 2008
I was alway comfortable with the night. Even as a child. I was terrified of people and always felt awkward and stupid around them. Bright daylight brought danger, humiliation and expectations I knew I could never fill. But nature was... home.
As I grew older and left home and started traveling my choices of places got wider. From the hills of my home in Mississippi to the deserts of Arizona to the forest of the Pacific Northwest to the jungles of Mexico to the tundra of Alaska. But nighttime in the wilds was my safe time. It was my peace, my relaxation and at times my salvation.
Now I’m old and my body is worn out and broken. I can only climb the mountains in my memories and I’ve hiked my last desert. I know I’ll never wake up again hundreds of miles from civilization with nothing but a pack and my kit to the sight of an eagle soaring overhead and the fog and mists hiding the mountain valleys.
But I can still sit, as I did in my wasted youth, and stare into the fire.