Disappointment. None of my doctor’s appointments yesterday went as planned.

School days. Here we go. Lunches are packed. Clothes are laid out. Supplies are in tow. It’s the first day of school in a new school for the grand kids. Their mom and I were granted permission last night to walk with them.

I’m on a fix-it roll. Got home from Marathon. Started getting ready for Houston. It’s grand-kid time. Took one last shot at fixing the wonky seatbelt in the backseat.

In the beginning there soon came the middle and after that the end and this is the end of our trip.

I’m at an age where there might not be much left to live. I suspect that’s why I like hiking. It’s slow. It’s measured. It’s peaceful.

We got rain yesterday. A big storm blew through town just as we sat down for dinner. Gave us a nice cooling off. There was thunder and lightning all through the rest of the evening.

We had a quiet day yesterday. Drove to Balmorhea. Floated in the big pool. Drove back. Napped. Went to visit friends. There was music.

Big day yesterday. Drove into Big Bend. Went down to the river. I’m happy to report the Rio Grande is still flowing. I looked into Mexico. No one was out and about. It was too hot.

I’m in Marathon. In the silence of the morning, I can hear the train whistling its way through town. A long call in the dark night warning the unexpecting.

Oh, boy. Another day. Another road trip. It’s back to Marathon. It’s the Marathon Songwriters Festival. This is my third year. I mark the first, in 2021, as the beginning of my recovery from the loss of my wife in 2020.

The world is hot and only one man can save it. Sounds like a historical novel, but it’s fiction by Neal Stephenson.

Yesterday took me by surprise. The third anniversary of my wife’s death. I thought I was ready. I could see it coming. But I felt good. I was on the move. Getting things done. Planning. Then the day dawned.

I admit. I’m stymied this morning. I went outside. Expected cool. Got warm. Almost hot. My ear still hurts. Just a bit. Things are drying up. Including me.

My son-in-law, Army veteran, Ranger, and reserve officer is a constant source of reading material for me. Last Christmas he gave me: Black Hawk Down.

I usually sleep on my left side. And when my body requires a break, which it often does at night, I switch to the right. And back and forth I go.

For the second time in ninety days, I’ve had skin cancer removed. This was a Basel cell on my left ear. They did the procedure this morning. The anesthesia, such as it was, has worn off.