It's been a whirlwind, this new beginning of Autumn. A flurry of flying, plane changes, luggage carousels, rental cars, maps and schedules, and along with it, songs and stories topped off with laughter and comfortable quiet, a thousand hugs and a kiss goodbye.
I discovered something about myself on this trip. I'm no good at airports. I'm impatient, intolerant and nervous. My heart flutters and I bite my nails. My short attention span gets even shorter. I get disoriented and confused and I don't drink enough water. I get a little grouchy. I worry my plane will crash. I always worry about that.
I discovered, or I should say, re confirmed the fact that I am uncomfortable around crowds of people and the blather, all the clamor and the noise! Good heavens!
Relieved to be back in Denver, I drove without hesitation, straight for the village of Red Feather. Like a miner, my headlamp was the only light I saw, except for the infinite stars above me, as I walked the pathway to the door of that little tin can in the woods.
I didn't hear a sound.
I collapsed in my little bed in the Silver Moonbeam and I dreamed of a black bear.