Another Late Night

There's something about working late that makes me, I don't know, somewhat reflective, a little nostalgic and a little wanting to bare my soul to all you faceless readers out there. Well, those of you not posting pics and what not.

But I'll save you the soul-searching. And the confessional. But the nostalgia, well, if you keep reading then you fucked yourself over and can't blame me.

Being down here again is kind of weird. Outside the big town, not much has changed. And now we live right off the road I used to go barrelling over on my way to pick up the missus. It's just as I remember it, perhaps a little better. I feel like I'm seeing so much with fresh eyes. The hills are bigger than I remember and the land deeper. Instead of some areas being pressed between the hills and the highway, they seem to be opening their arms to me.

I know I've changed somewhere along the way. When and how, I'm not so sure. But somethings, thankfully, haven't. Like the wide open spaces. Or coming off the hill and looking at the ridges and bluffs down in California. I don't know if all people feel this way after their homecoming. Maybe it's being a descendant of homesteaders that make me feel this way. Maybe after being the fourth generation to live in this country and born in it, there's something deeper inside that pre-disposes me to loving this dirt and sagebrush and junipers and rocks. Or, maybe it's simply where I fell in love.

I don't know what it is, and to a degree I hope I never find out.