Yesterday I was at a friends house when she said she had something to show me. We jumped in my husbands pickup and drove a short distance out to her pasture. There in the distance I saw two donkeys. My friend called out, "Molly, Pablo. Y'all come on" The donkeys came running as soon as they saw her. They came up to let us pet them and ate feed from our hands. They were the sweetest, most gentle animals I have ever been around. Both had markings like a cross on their backs and she explained they were Somalian donkeys and likely the kind Jesus rode on Palm Sunday. Her husband had given her the donkeys for Valentines day. She said she always wanted a donkey. She always wanted one in her front yard so she could look out at him from her kitchen window. I thought, really? I always wanted a pink convertible Barbie car, but a donkey is good too. Before we left, she turned to look at the sun setting and said, " Isn't it beautiful? Sometimes I look around and just say, thank you, God." When we lived in the country, I never said that. It was more like, "God, why have you brought me to this desert land?" Thinking about it now, maybe I was wrong. In the country I never had to retrieve a neighbor child's football from my back yard in my pajamas. The Jehovah's Witness didn't wake me on Saturday morning and no one ever complained about my husband shooting skunks in the middle of the night wearing only his boxers and a baseball cap. People just aren't that "gun friendly" in the city. Also, when we planted a garden, the coyotes and rabbits ate everything so we were never faced with the hard work of reaping what we had sown. I didn't have to be on the look out for snakes or, God forbid, grasshoppers, while picking tomatoes because there where no tomatoes. I really hate grasshoppers, the way they fly in your face with no warning ,and I don't care what anyone says, grass snakes are just as scary as a boa constrictor. So, I guess moving to town was the right thing to do. But then again, I sure would like to have a donkey.