In a little town in the mountains where Heidi might play — did Heidi live in Switzerland? because that’s where my mind wandered — there was a quaint little house of gingerbread and a little boy and a kindly parent — now, it might have been a little girl, but in either case they lived there. And they waited and lived happily ever after and adventure never came to them, which is to be expected because usually you have to go and seek adventure, and when you find adventure you may discover that you weren’t necessarily wise to seek it out. So we take our leave of the Swiss child and parent because, while a life without adventure may be comfortable, it lacks adventure after all. Still, there’s no place like home.
Published by WarrenBluhm
Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his two golden retrievers, Dejah and Summer. Author of Ebenezer, It's Going to Be All Right, Echoes of Freedom Past, Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution. View all posts by WarrenBluhm