Eric B. Thomasma

They don’t come around here anymore.

There was a time when we had to prepare. To stock up on provisions and clear the area of potential obstacles and dangers. A time to make repairs, replace burned out light bulbs, and lay out welcoming decorations. A time to let the world know that this is the place to come to find what you’re looking for. And we welcomed them all. All sizes, all shapes, male, female, even different species. All were welcome at our door. But alas, that time has passed.

It’s been many years since we’ve seen so much as a single traveler, when we used to get so many. They used to come alone, in pairs, but most often in small groups. We, donned appropriate accouterments, exchanged the traditional greetings, heeded the dire warnings, and ultimately made friends of the potential adversaries.

But time has moved on and the neighborhood has changed. What was once a young and vibrant place, has aged. With grace, of course, as the landscape has evolved into a comfortable, living, and lived-in state, with a beauty worthy of quiet contemplation. But in this world of sound bites, videogames, increased internet use, and diminished attention spans, what once was thought a comfortable distance, is now considered too far to travel, at too great a risk, for limited reward.

Where the travelers of old had a wanderlust, and the greatest of prizes went to those with the highest endurance and drive, today they gather together in appointed places at appointed times, and willingly accept the portions of generosity in equal measure. It’s a safer option, different, but still fun.

I’m told there are places where the old ways are still practiced. Where the quest is still paramount and the rewards are gained all along the journey.

But not here.

No, they don’t come around here anymore.