There is just something about a summer's night. Winter is looming closer and weighs upon my mind. It is making me savor every last minute of these warm, melodically beautiful evenings. Winter brings cold winds with the only noise being it brushing up against my windows that guard me from the cold. Summer brings katydids, crickets, and the sound of whip-o-wills. All things that bring joy to my heart.
When I was homeless, I often had dreams of migrating. The cold of the winter would make me want to live in Miami with warm, tropical breezes and blowing palm trees. If I would have had a car at the time, it would have no doubt found me well south of the Mason-Dixon line. Warm weather would then find me back in my beloved Alabama in the familiar haunts that were the woods I called home during those homeless days. Thinking about it makes me miss my usual camping trips.
Charlie came by last evening bearing two gifts of some incredibly horizontal Asian wall hangings. "Fantastic!" I said as we hung them on either side of my entertainment center. "They look so good, I think I am going to take them back now," Charlie said as he laughed. "Indian giver!" I cried, laughing back. I don't know what I would do without Charlie and the constant little gifts he brings me. Yesterday, it was huge amounts of toilet paper and paper towels. Today, it was art for my walls. He truly is the brother my father never had and treats us siblings as his own.