a kabash

There is a note on the dry erase board in the kitchen: "Happy Birthday!", it is from Dylan. Dylan who lives, works and breathes along with me in this small rental house. Three bedrooms, a bath and a half.
Today is my birthday and here I sit, windows open, the sound of traffic breezing through with the wind, the wooden chimes clinking and singing. Reminders of a childhood past. While on the laptop, as background noise to the cooking and dishes of the day there is Anthony Bourdain on Netflix (God bless Netflix, right?)...The program is about New Orleans.
There is an affinity we have, our family, to New Orleans. It was my father's and my mother's mother (grandmother that is)..it was one of their favorite cities (San Francisco being the other and of course, Paris as a third favorite for Dad). Three cities, not like cities really to my mind, but rather, large towns where one of the primary enjoyments, is food.
Dad and Grandma are gone now but the cities and the food lives on, perhaps on the precipice, perhaps...
This next week we will drive a long drive, through high plains and deserts, through some mountains, mere hills. We will bicycle and hike, sit under the stars and dream? We will see things we have never seen before, and some things we have...And my bag is packed, is ready to go...
Happy birthday me...as I listen to the wind, the wood chimes, the rustle of dead leaves...

"Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe." Anatole France