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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