If asked to describe it, to quantify it with words or fumbling thoughts, I’d offer up three: The Great Mystery. This is life, to me. The life I lived as a child, wandering from city to city following the boys of summer — my Dad’s baseball teams in minor league ballparks from Bakersfield to Kinston, Albuquerque to Great Falls — was more magic than I knew at the time. Every year, some great unknown as to where we’d spend our precious few months out of school, every year learning the landscape of some new place, missing our friends back at home, but feeling connected to something so much
"Magic in this mystery, in this peripatetic way of living, magic in the hands that surf the wind out a VW van rattling down a blue highway at dusk." This has to be one of my favorites!
This is so beautiful. What a thing life is.
"Magic in this mystery, in this peripatetic way of living, magic in the hands that surf the wind out a VW van rattling down a blue highway at dusk." This has to be one of my favorites!