Yesterday morning I went fishing again at the campground “Catch and Release” pond without catching a fish. Then, I drove for three hours to Paducah. I forgot all about the time-change in western Kentucky and arrived an hour earlier than I expected. The RV, called Odysseus (the odometer turned 103,000 miles yesterday) is parked under a giant elm tree, somewhat secluded, alongside Bill’s art studio and gallery. Honeysuckle grows on the fence behind and a huge poison ivy vine grows up the elm tree. During the night I could hear the trains rumbling through Paducah with horns a’blaring (I love to hear the sound of trains). This morning the birds were singing and the doves cooing. Who could ask for more?
More enjoyable than the sound of the trains and the song of the birds is to be with Bill (and his wife, Patience). Bill and I have been friends since 1971 and have shared much together. His culinary talent produced a delicious pasta dinner last night. Our conversation ranged from politics to the existence of God—and so much more in between! Who could ask for anything better?
Our search for “more” and our penchant for something “better” is always present and is essential to our human journey. This yearning in each of us reminds me of a song that speaks to my own search through the years: “Elusive Butterfly.”
You might wake up some morning
To the sound of something moving past your window in the wind
And if you're quick enough to rise
You'll catch the fleeting glimpse of someone's fading shadow
Out on the new horizon
You may see the floating motion of a distant pair of wings
And if the sleep has left your ears
You might hear footsteps running through an open meadow
Don't be concerned, it will not harm you
It's only me pursuing something I'm not sure of
Across my dreams with nets of wonder
I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love—(or, perhaps we could say, “Life”).
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