I find ways to make do.

I’m in love. With life. But not necessarily with the world. With what we humans have done. To screw things up. Terrible things. To each other. I’d just as soon isolate myself. From the rest of the teeming world. Live underground. Or in a primeval forest. Or on a mountain top.  Away from people. Other than my true love. And a few friends. Maybe I could even live without other people. Though that would be difficult. If not impossible. I’d have to forage for myself. But really, there are escapes. Places I can live. Amongst people. Where I can thrive. And be happy. I am there now. In Minnesota. And by winter, I’ll be with my true love and her Italian compatriots. In Sardinia. An idyllic island in the Mediterranean Sea. So really, I have no valid complaints about life. And the world.  I find ways to make do. –Jim Broede