Perfect music...

Somewhere out there, deep in the national forest, a 19-year-old is sitting by a campfire, maybe reading his Bible or listening to music, with the moonlight streaming through the aspen trees quaking ever so lightly in the evening breeze. Plans for his life ahead, images of his family and friends, the decision he's made to go home, all fill his thoughts as only the solitude of the wilderness can foster. And the big, black Jeep -- it sits there as a simple reminder of someone who genuinely feels his absence.

Allan, my roommate of little more than six weeks, has chosen to leave.

The decision had been coming for a week or so and, honestly, I am not surprised. Actually, I encouraged him to do it because I remembered how I felt earlier this year when I reached the point that going to work each morning in Shreveport made me miserable. Here, I look forward to it, but his situation was not the same. He was not meant to be a dishwasher and even though new opportunities were beginning to present themselves, it was simply too late. By Saturday morning, I could tell he had made his mind up.

It rained that morning, but by the time he got home from his shift the weather was perfect for one last adventure. He wanted to drive and I simply wanted to enjoy the last ride. I had picked three remote points, down miles of 4WD backroads, through narrow canyons, way beyond what any tourist or hiker would attempt. As the Jeep rumbled along, the conversation and music blended seamlessly with the sounds of nature surrounding us. Several times, we simply stopped for a minute or two to take in the scenery along the way, but the real memories were to be made along the canyon's rim. At Crazy Jug and Monument points, the rock outcroppings lent themselves to a bit of scrambling out to the edge to enjoy the view, but the best was the third point I had chosen. At Indian Hollow, we hiked a small valley that climbed up to the canyon's edge where we discovered the perfect flat rock perched high above the floor below. It was just the right size for two great friends to lie back and watch the clouds above and without saying so, understand we were only a few days from saying "farewell."

On the drive back, we decided to blow off the original plan and head across the desert toward southern Utah for one last meal in Kanab. You cannot script some things in life and this was one of those times. Jackson Browne will never know how incredible "Running on Empty" sounds with the windows down and the highway straightaway toward a sunset made just for such a scene. Yes, I thought about alot of friends and alot of my life's experiences, but I also felt as young as that kid behind the wheel with the huge smile on his face. And, truthfully, nothing seemed to matter but that.

Today, Allan gave his notice, but his parents will not be here for a few days. He has always wanted to camp out on his own, so I agreed to let him have the means to do so. What I did not expect was to come home to a half-empty room, but apparently they told him he could not leave his belongings here after he quit; his note on my bed explained as much. Of course, this is not the first time for me to experience this. It's just the first time that it struck me like this.

My alarms will be going off in a few hours, so it's time to end this. How I am going to fall asleep without the snoring across the room is yet to be seen.

"Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too

Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I’m running behind"