What is it that makes a place feel like home? Is it a familiar bed? The person that may be in it? Maybe those friends coming back into your life? As long as you don’t stay away too long. Friends have a shorter shelf life than we all think. I’m not sure what makes that feeling happen. I’ve been back in the desert for a week or so kind of getting my jackrabbits in a row. I left Yellowstone in 38 degree weather and arrived in Terlingua around a 108 degrees. I don’t think it’s the change of season. Today I took a drive out to one of my favorite places in the world along one of my favorite roads. The Old Maverick Road to the mouth of Santa Elena Canyon. It was rough, dusty, and hot as hell but for some reason it got under my skin. Maybe it’s some kind of unseen appreciation that is unique to the individual. Wouldn’t it be amazing to feel that way where ever you are?
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