Me and Rosa were lying in bed last night, talking. I was trying to explain to her my wanderlust.
"I want to just walk out of the house and disappear," I said.
"What about us?" she asked.
"I would take you with me."
Rosa smiled incredulously.
"I doubt I would be a willing participant on one of your wanderings," she said. "I am happily homed."
I don't know what gets in me, but I understand how The Homeless Guy felt. He had a home and an income and he just threw it all away to go live out in Vegas in a Catholic mission for men. He said he felt lonely and there is a camaraderie among homeless people. It is kind of like the untouchable caste of India. You look after your own.
"You promise me you are not just going to disappear tomorrow?" Rosa asked as we curled up in the covers to go to sleep.
"I promise," I said as I reached up to turn off my lamp to be greeted by a dark bedroom. "But I might go camping for a week."
Rosa sighed softly. We lay in the dark as I listened to her breathe and go to sleep. It gives a new meaning to that old saying that the grass is always greener on the other side. And to think, I want to give this all up just I can go wander about the country like some indigent man. I make myself shudder sometimes. It must just be part of my mental illness - the irrationality of it all.