if I don’t think…

If I don’t think about it, it’s easy to pretend that I’m already on the road.

Sitting at a cafe I’ve never been in or even seen before, having a light breakfast & coffee. Unfamilar faces, shops, streets; I’m somewhere wles entirely, on my way to wherever I end up and from there on to the next wherever, the next blessed anonimyty. I could pretend that this is the beginning of another new day of adventure, a subdued excitement to see what lies ahead once I crawl into the drivers seat, turn the key, and follow wherever the dreams lead…

I could pretend, if I didn’t think about it – that I’m only in North Berkeley, sitting at a cafe while across the street my motorhome gets some work done to it that I don’t have the proper tools for.

I have another hour or so before the work is done, and during that time, until I get the call from the shop…

I won’t think about it.


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