I was sitting at a sandwich shop between job runs today thinking I'd relax and write a little.  One of my clients had cancelled and I just wanted a place to sit since it's too far to drive home and back to a later client in the same area.  I had looked for a quiet place - a park - a country road - a shade tree - anything.  However, I soon found that there were few of those kind of places - at least in that area.  

I remember when I was young, in my little town, there always seemed to be a gravel road to wander down.  A  place to pick flowers or walk.  My family have always been hunters, fishermen and mushroom hounds.  I'm not even sure where we were much of the time in those days of picking black berries, finding turtles and avoiding snakes and ticks!  But I know that we were able to enjoy the outside - beyond our back yard.  How fortunate I was to have those memories and that kind of freedom!  

And there I sat in a bustling eatery with a driving music radio station determining the choice for my audible listening "pleasure."  My senses suddenly were no longer stimulated by the hoped for flitting butterfly or a bubbling stream, but rather by colorful potato chip choices and the sounds of an adolescent be-bopper singing about loving someone's body.  I'm not knocking potato chips or romance, but for the love of solidtide, couldn't we forfeit just one or more of the above on such a grand spring day as this?!  

And so I sat.  With any choice of sandwich topping or soda flavor I could ask for.  I sat.  While the delivery truck roared to the front door and the uniformed guy brought in yet more potato chip choices.  I sat.  And I watched a small bus load of teen-agers parade in with yet their own head phones and drum beats as they giggled and teased, managing to pick out their flavor of potato chips and lunch meats.  I sat.  And, well, I suppose I WAS inspired and I DID begin to write - about missing solitude!  I suppose.....I adapted.