This is a story of a young man who had dreams and missed chances. I guess he thought there was always tomorrow, as many of us do. Around the age of 4, I started to wonder what was over that big hill out back of the barn. By the age of ten I was big enough to ride the trail to the top, I saw another hill. This is when the wander bug bite me. From that point on I was always thinking about the next hill and the one after that. Pa started to lose his temper with me as I was neglecting my chores in favor of thinking of those hills and the things I would one day see. When I turned 16 I had enough of chores, I left home. Ma wanted me to stay, but Pa told her to let me go, said it would due me good to wear out the seat of a few pair of pants and sample the blisters that come with it,To live on my own. Pa said I'd be back soon enough. Over the years I ran Cattle and Horses, some were even mine. Worked for some mean ramrods and one or two that were to ride the river with. Found a gal. The gal was rotten to the core and almost got me hung. Had a good saddle pal, he was run down in a stampede, we found his hat. It's been 14 years now and Pa was wrong. Oh allot of times I wanted to pack it in, but that would prove Pa right. I started to think about home and I missed Ma and even Pa. I rode day and night, I wanted to see them one more time and help Pa on the ranch, make up for those chores I didn't do. I rode up out of the river bed and saw the ranch, long abandon and over grown. Maybe the moved into town, they were getting on in their years. I rode on and then I saw them. 2 crosses, graves. Desert moving in on them. I stood by the graves, thinking back as a kid, the wonderer. I was gone too long. Hell, even a Cowboy has to cry.