It’s the first week of December, and the sun sets in Ozarkansas shortly before 5pm CST. That coincides with Deb’s evening commute, giving her something (else) to enjoy on her way Home, even though the sun’s at her back for most of the trip.
The word “commute,” now that I look at it, doesn’t fit. When Deb and I worked together at the security shop, for example, the drive from our bedroom community to the east side of Columbus covered 17 miles (virtually all of it via urban Interstates) and took at least a half-hour. Over the years, when traffic or weather sucked particularly hard, the trip to or from work would take as long as three hours.
The Mountain is less than seven miles from the bank where Deb now works. It’s a slow drive only because five miles of it traverses a dirt road, a gravel road and a twisting (though paved) county road.
See what I mean? Calling it a “commute” doesn’t feel right. It’s almost too pleasant for that.
On this, my second day without Deb around, the story up here was wind, a steady 15mph with gusts approaching 40mph. Once again I wasn’t exactly the picture of ambition. About the only thing I did of any consequence — and saying that takes more credit than I deserve — was to shift our arsenal of power tools from a handful of bags to the cart a neighbor gave us.
As I said yesterday, my pace is changing. It has to.
I was on the phone with Deb while she drove Home. She watched the sunset sky from the county road. I snapped photos of it from The Amphitheater.
We could never go back to the Life we lived for most of our 18 years together. No more cities. No more suburbs. No more “commutes.” We belong in the Country.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB
