One door

I'm living in the Sandia Mountains. The clear blue sky is fragrant with pine, the breezes caress my skin .
I feel freedom, yet a deep sadness.I am working on a philosophy that can help me through the rest of my life, and it seems I need to be away from society to clear my head, to see what is and isn't important.
For breakfast I had bird's eggs and pinon nuts with dandelion tea.I think of my kids in Tucson.
Blue-eyed tomboy Mary Kate, Daddy's girl Michele. I wish nothing more than to go back to Tucson and hold them in my arms, but I've got to be somebody first.
I can't go back to Tucson and have them think I'm a bum, that their Dad is a loser. I gaze at the stream in the canyon,
"Things were so much simpler in the old days."
Ten years ago I'd married my high school sweetheart, Mary Ann. Things seemed like they could help but get better.
Before our marriage I'd been on my own, working at a truck stop out side of town. During slow periods I wrote in my journal.
I had written some comments in my journal about the boss, unfortunately I left the journal one morning at the end of my shift, on the counter, and he didn't particularly care to see himself in the way I described him, I'll just say, it wasn't flattering, although it was accurate.
That night I was told I wouldn't be needed anymore.
The job it self was not all that much of a loss, but I lived in a bunkhouses, free of charge, so I not only lost my job, I lost my home at the same time.
I swallowed my pride and drove to Mary Ann's duplex in South Tucson.I pulled the beat up Falcon up to the curb and knocked on the door. Mary invited me inside.
Mary played on the floor with a friction car, Michele was sleeping in her crib.
"Would you like some coffee, Michael?"
Mary inquired. "Sure, thanks,"
"How's everything going with you?" she asked. "Well...Umm...I got fired."Mary looked placidly at me."Fired? What happened?" I told her the story of the journal. Then I asked if I could stay with her and the kids for a few days."OK, " she said, "I'll make the couch for you."Beggars can't be choosers, I thought to myself. That night, while I lay stretched out on the couch I heard the door to Mary's bedroom opening as she looked at me with a smile. Her golden hair glowed in the light from the kitchen."Are you comfortable?" she asked."Yes, I am, thank you." She nodded."Would you rather sleep in the bedroom?"I cocked myself up on one elbow, "Of course..."
"Come on," she said, and gestured to me.
As I went towards her I thought to myself, You know, sometimes life really is good.
Sometimes when one door closes, many more are opened.