Did you ever let your mind wander and then try and trace them back to how you ever got to your last thought? Lying down on a cushion on my back porch after dinner trying to drown out the voices of my sons laughing and joking on the dock, my thoughts wander as I watch the clouds speed by and see the occasional plane high in the sky pass by. I wonder where it’s traveling to and that there must be people going home and others going on vacation. Home is where the heart is. Where is my heart? I remember feeling my heart pound as I finished my bike ride yesterday. Afterwards, I went out to the porch and sat down to catch my breath and let my heart rest, listening to the birds chirp. It’s what I do after a good bike ride . . . and when I feel like doing nothing. Just listening to the sounds of nature, whatever nature there is around my house. The birds mostly, chirping and singing. If I’m lucky I can hear the waves lap against the beach, but that’s not till after a boat speeds by, so it kind of ruins the purpose of trying to listen to nature. Nature. Camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains so many years ago. I still have those two pictures I took with my old Instamatic camera. The fog from the morning covering the trees. It would make a great puzzle. I was in the Sports Authority yesterday looking at camping equipment. I have a tent and a sleeping bag. That’s it. That’s my camping equipment. I do need more stuff if I plan to go on that trip on the Appalachian Trail one of these days. Better yet, I should get a camper. I often picture myself living in just a camper, traveling the country, hitting every campground there is. I wouldn’t need anything else. No house, no pets, no kids, no husband. Just Nature and her beauty. And maybe the occasional restaurant every once in a while. If I only had the money to do so, I’d be gone tomorrow. Maybe I should try my hand at writing a book. Being that my highest level of formal education is high school, I doubt I would get very far. Hey, it’s just a thought. I’ve written some pretty good erotic stories.
At least He thought they were pretty good. Him. He needs to get out of my head. He left me flat. Kind of like the kid who didn’t get picked to play the game and went home and ruined the game for everyone else because the ball was his. How did my thoughts get to Him anyway? Why does He always manage to make His way into my thoughts? Let’s backtrack . . . Him, erotic stories, writing, living in a camper, Appalachian Trail, camping equipment, good pictures, Nature, boats, birds, my heart, home, planes, clouds, sons, dinner, and lying down. I think it’s time to get up and hop in the shower and start a new chain of thoughts.