Thoughts on a Pillow

I wonder as we draw closer to the big adventure of turning our lives into one of near poverty, what we shall miss. Last week Nancy and I met with a returned Peace Corps Volunteer, recently back from Romania. He was very positive but it sure sounded as if he was alone for most of his service, alone and lonely. I wonder what we'll miss.

I'll miss our dogs, Biscuit and Walter, miss our horses, Momma and Sparky and Rita. I know that I'll miss our bathroom and my bed. Mostly though I'll miss my pillow.

It's an ancient pillow, heavy and musty, but it's mine. I wonder if I should sacrifice suitcase space and take the thing with me? There are pillows and pillows all over the world, and perhaps in Romania there's a special goosedown with my name on it, but I do get so tired to the measly little puffs of air that come with so many hotel beds. Should I risk going years without my pillow? Will it remember me? Will it die of unuse during the months of my abscense?

Silly thoughts, but an old man and his pillow, lifelong friends, the one thing that is closest to and has shared all of my dreams.