He shuts the door and grabs a chair to talk to me, teary eyed and pathetic.

“It’s the end….I just want to thank you for all you have done for us…”

I’m too old for pathetic sympathy. I jump on a plane to find new direction in the endless rows of grapevines known as the Napa Valley.

The lack of rain in California leaves the rivers almost dry. One can’t even commit a proper suicide here. The aqueducts have a calming symmetry though. I’ll take what I can get.

Row after row of newly forming grapes sparkle in the springtime, a funny contrast to the crosses that start their foundation for life.

The rolling hills call for me to hike the trails. I find a small cemetery with a few headstones. It appears to be a family plot. The weather beaten fence surrounding them can’t stop the weeds from taking over.

There seems to be a deeper meaning in there somewhere, I just need to let go of the anger and frustration myself, as no matter what I do, the weeds will eventually win.

Let’s follow a new path, and see where it leads.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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