There is about December

an urge to travel slowly -- the light perhaps and the sudden oncoming of night, the chill, the waning year (this year, a good thing) -- by taking the long way no matter where I'm headed (through an extra gorge on the way to North Carolina or on a stroll around an unfamiliar town like Murphy or even Manchester, normally just blurs along by-pass or interstate), and then I am grateful for my parents' example.