I haven’t written in this medium in a long while, and the reasons are long. Tedious. Boring. As my desk has piled high with unfinished story lines, recipes, hunting sagas and other bullshit, my mind has been most occupied with my unborn son, who has until only a moment ago, been kicking my hand. I have the urge, almost unresistable, to take he and his mother and return to our mother land, that rocky outclave of sea that forged so many of us to take our hands into other countries and deny the opportunity to be forged into something anew. I would that my child be born there, in that land of rocks and legends than to be born into this new country, this system of checks and balances, where a man cannot be a man. Then, in a cooling breath, I look out across my land, listen to the chorus of coyotes and other creatures running free as the river falls free at my back and I realize….I realize the beauty of where we live. I thank the moon, marvel at jupiter, and promise to take Nolan to Scotland. Not to live, but to just be thankful of where he is from.