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On Your Mark, Get Set...

They get ready to go and, as always, she’s far more excited about it than he.  They will travel south.  South is nearly inevitable, given their starting point. He approves of the plan to travel by train.  Planes are faster, but their windows are smaller and the view is always clouded. Trains are like rivers and he’s almost always lived near rivers. He appreciates the train’s rhythm and the slow progression of alternating countryside and cityscape, the appearance and disappearance of landscape, the approach and retreat of horizons.

She recognizes that he’s not all that excited about traveling. He tells her that he likes to be places, just doesn’t really enjoy going to them.  It would be best, he says, if he could just go to bed, close his eyes, and wake up away. She tells him she’s happy that he tolerates it as well as he does and always reminds him that he can stay home if he wants to. He almost always replies that he’d rather be with her than without. Still, he appreciates her graciousness, letting him off the hook easily when he opts for hermitage over gregariousness, for stillness over movement.

They disagree about desirable destination, too. Most of the time, when she talks about travel she talks about beaches, cities, and hotels; but all the time she’s talking, he’s thinking cabin, lake, woods.  Even so, the thought of even the nicest cabin by the most pristine lake, deep in the deepest woods does not compare to his love for his own home, where he can lie down close his eyes, and go wherever he wants.

He doesn’t really care where he goes or doesn’t go. He doesn’t care where she goes, either, as long as she always comes home.

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I like to be places too, Ron

I like to be places too, Ron and I don't enjoy the trouble of going to them either...nteresting piece, tightly woven together. Nice one. mx