MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2013
Another summer has fallen in the endless battle of seasons, and so the skies have begun to grow darker sooner as we measure time. In the blink of a mortal’s eye, Jack Frost will run his not-so-gentle touch over the whole of the night’s form, forcing us to cover ourselves in woven fabric and thick, colorful blankets.
The cycle is immutable.
Trees, far from immune to the forces of entropy, wither, their leaves deposited to the ground by the fading vestiges of the summer’s breath.
Species we share this world with – and in many cases, have displaced – must now fight to survive winter’s wrath by foraging for our scraps, as nature’s offerings have been greatly diminished by the presence of mankind. We see them every day, squirrels, birds and the like, and yet, how often do we consider their life-cycle, their battle against death?
The soil will no longer be fertile.
The bodies of water we enjoy so freely will be uninhabitable to the masses.
And the hordes of travelers, upon whom the citizens of my hometown are economically dependent, will be but be a series of memories translated into stories for my faithful followers.
As it always has been, so shall it always be.
The summer of 2013 has officially been laid to rest.
And what of the scribe of this ongoing chronicle of the modern traveler? Has his fate been decided?
Not quite. I’m certain my health issues are but a blip on the radar, especially when one considers that my blood work and heart tests have failed to yield answers, but since a solid answer remains out of reach, I find myself forced to consider my limitations.
And so, after listening to my family and blogging friends I have decided to scale back my cyber-activities for the time being, at least. I’ll blog here and there, of course.
(I’ll have plenty of time to scribble posts into worn notebooks now that the clientele and work load have decreased at the hotel.)
But Sarah deserves my time and full attention to ensure the first volume of The Misadventures of Misery is everything it should be. And VampireLover deserves a mate who isn’t dead on his feet or worse yet, mad at the world because his body is failing him. (The wife is incredibly understanding, but she isn’t above kicking my butt if necessary. And trust me , it’s come to that on more than one occasion.)
I’ll have a guest post available for your reading pleasure on The Indie Chicks mind-blowing site on September 18, and I’m sure I’ll visit a blog or two during my hiatus.
Hey, you know what just occurred to me? Don’t rack your brain, I’ll let you off easy; if the Power That Be at one of the big television networks ever decided to translate my life into a series, they could use one of the following titles:
- Breaking Bags.
- Tons of Anarchy.
- Luggage Dynasty.
- Mad Bellman.
- Game of Gold Carts.
To name but a few.
And now I bid you farewell, my friends, if only for a short while. Be well.
See you in the lobby….