Ins and Outs

The opening line from the book, Nothing to be Frightened Of, by Julian Barnes, is this: I don't believe in God, but I miss Him.

It's a sentence—and sentiment, too—that comes to my mind a couple of times a year, although never in terms of a divine creator. Mostly, I think, they have to do with matters of the heart or seasons of life, that sort of thing, or even things of a physical nature, items I once held close but now no longer do. Like a plate of beans & hamburger (what I used to call Cowboy Food). I don't really like the concoction anymore, but I miss it. 

Or writing poetry. Or owning a dog.

I loved those things when they were part of me, but now-a-days, I couldn't imagine them in my life. Ok, maybe I take back the dog. Because look...

I write this so that you’ll understand that my list of Ins and Outs I shared last week all come from a particular time and place. An effective state of being. A mood, if you will. As much as did my appetizing infatuation with mixing together a can of pork and beans, a pound of beef, slopping in a cup of ketchup and another of brown sugar and serving that masterpiece on a blue tin-metal plate—bonus, if there was a campfire. The reality is tomorrow everything could change. And probably will.