The days of 2014 are almost gone.

As each day concludes, it flies off the calendar like a free bird. What started as a novel is now looking like a memo.

Today, I climb a trail that runs in open space in the Albuquerque foothills where we hiked as kids. You follow the trail and it takes you around a  knob of a hill called Star Mountain for Christmas lights that used to be hung on it,  in the outline of a star.

Some people have the gift of memory. They can close their eyes and remember events just like they were there. Others of us have to write things down.

When I travel people ask me what is wrong with the place I am from.

I  tell them ” nothing ” which is mostly true, most of the time.

It is just that my feet get itchy and travelling scratches them.



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