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.