Nostalgia

I feel it like a storm gathering over the horizon. That dark, mysterious, enthralling, language whispered so softly that few can hear it; promising adventure, hinting of danger, sending its vague message of urgency to those who will listen. It is a request, begging to be answered. It speaks to my cowboy blood, intoxicating my heart and spirit, compelling me to go find that elusive . . . reason for my being. It demands of me that which I am more than willing to give, that which gives my lonely ...