end of year, cold and gray, melancholy, review, looking back and forward, both sides of the road, checking the rearview mirror, and the road ahead, the lights, not the brights, the far off streets dim in the darkness, no illuminated road signs, no maps or gps navigators. it's convoy time, and hoping not to get lost in the traffic, as others before me go on, trailblazing westward ho, covered wagon style. no need to circle up, as the quest keeps moving, keeps traveling. and i wonder if we know enough. i wonder when to go. it's like getting letters from the settles of cataan, showing glimpses of life on the line, on the frontier, no one in front, no one behind, and foraging, gather wood and hunting, surviving, and hoping we know enough.