Remembering...the scraggly coyote.

Going away for four days. Poses dangers. In that I lose my sense of rhythm. Mentally. Physically. Maybe even emotionally. Going into a different environment. A different setting. That can throw me for a loop. At home, I’m more regimented. Able to stay in a groove. But an odd thing. When going away, time seems to pass more slowly.  Maybe that’s the result of doing different things. Stuff that I normally don’t do. Eating out. Conversing with strangers. Living life in more of an unplanned way. Having to adjust to the unexpected. For some, that may be a relaxing and stimulating experience. It is for me, too. But only some of the time. Little wonder. When traveling, I’d rather stay put for a long time. In one spot. And preferably in a country setting. In a rural environs. A quiet place. Where life is pursued at a slow and leisurely place. Tranquility. Solitude. Isolation. In a primeval forest. On a mountain path. A seashore. Certainly, not Las Vegas. All the glitz. The lights. The crowds. The fanfare. The traffic.  I can live without all that. Better to escape. To the desert. To Death Valley. A scraggly lone coyote wandering aimlessly down the highway. That’s what I remember most.  Not the action in Las Vegas. –Jim Broede