I used to env y them, somehow. They go down there to the warm coastal
areas where the jacks swim and the nights are chilly but livable
this time of year. If they're especially sensitive geese, they'll
keep going until there are mangoes and palm trees and the language
of the people is Spanish.But they cross over here in their long,
languorous vees, and all we can do is look up and wonder what our
lives would be like if we could go along. To fly over the farms and
valleys, to coast along on the rising thermals, to sail down the
long way to warmth and sand and comfort, how nice it might be.
But if we did that, we'd miss the snow, and the fire in the
fireplace when the work was done in the evening. We'd miss how the
snowy world looks just at dusk when the snow is an alpenglow orange
and tells us secrets it has saved for us all these years. It
wouldn't seem like Christmas if we were wearing bathing trunks in
the tropics. If we went along to the winter feeding grounds, we
wouldn't be able to appreciate how splendid the spring will be with
the basking rays of sun on our necks and the swelling of the buds in
the fruit trees. To truly appreciate warmth, we must first get cold,
and that's evidently a part of our lives that the geese won't ever
get to share.
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Of course, they seem quite content to sail on down the southern
winds to the warm places, leaving us to wrap ourselves tighter in
thicker clothes and dream of sandy beaches and snorkels.
Have a good winter, geese. Eat a crab or two for me. You see,
I'll be here for you to honk at when you head north again in the
spring. I'll be right here, living in the same place. Cold or hot,
windy or still, my world and my responsibilities are here, and I'll
be right here taking care of them. It's my way of doing things, and
I'm used to it.
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Brought to you by Slim's award-winning book (and stocking stuffer)
"A Cowboy's Guide to Growing Up Right." Learn more at
http://www.nmsantos.com/Slim/Slim.html.
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