Early fog-filled Mississippi morning… Mockingbirds and Meadowlarks proclaiming their veritable joy of existence to a world which cannot see them. Slow drip of condensation from the eaves.
I am sitting here, coffee and cigarette, the bane of a truck drivers occupational hazards, slowly warming my metabolism to a slow acceptance of the day’s infinite possibilities.
HOME!
So this is what it feels like!
It’s only been two weeks this time, about the time it usually takes me to acclimate to the road from the last time…
I can’t explain why ANYONE would choose this lifestyle, let alone embrace it for 24 years, but it has to be an integral part of a person, of their core personality. Not the driving, or the travel so much, but rather the ‘Gypsy’ mindset, the longing for far horizons, the thirst for experience outside the norm.
Hard to believe sometimes, that it is there in my safe, cautious, introverted personality.
What am I searching for, what drives me onward like a compulsion from which I cannot awaken?
Or is it just a refusal to accept the mundane, even though being a gypsy becomes pretty mundane after a while! 
Coming home then becomes the adventure… fitting into ‘normal’ society, even for a few days, the challenge…
Strange humor, black humor perhaps, understandable only by those other misguided (or is it guided?) souls who have “been there, done that!”
Nevertheless, an old John Denver song keeps running through my head… “…and hey it’s good to be back home again!”
