The Box

Sometimes we find ourselves wallowing around within the confines of self-inflicted boxes. All we can see are the limits imposed by the box. I was sitting on the deck the other day playing some Lukas Nelson on my Echo, feeling really sorry for myself and I wrote a poem: I’m a sad old man, without a plan, throwing it all away again. Pretending to not give a damn, not knowing if I’ll lose or win.

Well, I thought, that’s pretty bleak as I consumed some Oregon fruit from my recent trip, I need to start thinking out of the box. I was trying to figure out how to get Steph and her stuff to the South towards the end of August while towing her truck behind the U-Haul and then getting my own ass back here to get my life moving and what about Piper while I was gone.

As I went to bed my brain was on fire and around midnight I got it. Leave early in August, pull my truck behind the U-Haul, unload in the South and drive back here. Steph can put new tires on her Tundra and drive east on our last day, I’ll then grab my stuff and Piper and drive to… Oh wait, I haven’t worked that part out yet, better go visit the deck one more time…

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