"Have you noticed how often you talk about leaving when you are sick?"
I tried to pretend to think about the question BC was asking but I already knew what he meant to be true. I am like an injured dog looking for a nice place far away to lay down.
This outing is not my idea, too sick to attend a family function I had actually been looking forward to I had no plans of anything further than the edge of my bed but BC insisted I go with.
I was quiet on the drive but the Little Giants covered the silence. I was watching little houses go by plotting; I could live there, or there, or at the end of the dirt road in Grouse Creek...
Once in the canyon the cold wind made thinking of being anywhere but lying low in the hot water pointless.
Pointless to fight it.
Dressing in the wind.
And although it may be pointless it's okay to dream.
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