I took a breather, got some work done, ended another school year, hit the road, changed chapters. 2020 continues to tumble us like we were Pleistocene river gravel in a lapidary drum. We ping around the side walls, make a lot of noise.
I have launched my epic road trip - big Western Loop for the next five weeks or so. It appears that COVID is raging as a pandemic more than ever, the push for social evolution away from our racist roots is determined to make a crater in the status quo and the Trump regime continues to astonish and divide us. I will keep to the edges as I go.
I knew before I left where my first stop would be. Upon arrival to Judyth's, I walked onto her porch, knocked and when she came to the door, I asked, "How shall we meet?" My hands were already prayerful at my heart. Wordless, she flowed out, wrapping her arms around my waist, mine took their cue, enveloping her shoulders. The reunion moment was a tall glass of water. I had carried more worry than I knew about her recovery from COVID. Let that old viral wolf watch from his dream den. The elixir of our embrace confounded any intention of caution. We told ourselves that his dark prints were long gone, blowing wide and away from here. And under a thirsty azure sky, the locals -Ponderosa pine, aspen, chipmunk, raven, hairy woodpecker, mule deer, black fox, Indian Paintbrush, lupine, golden banner, humming bird and black ant carried on as it we were some mirage.
I'd traveled twelve hours that day. The dawn relieved me of my front seat contortions, and I welcomed a stop in Nebraska for a late morning nap at a neglected local reservoir, buried deep within the agribusiness fields. I pushed on back-dropping the hours of prairie landscapes with my favorite podcasts. I took the hypotenuse to bisecting the northeast quadrant of Colorado. At Fort Morgan, with the apparitions of mountains in the afternoon light telling me I was close, we stopped to stretch our legs. While my pup relieved himself with impunity, I had to become a bathroom detective, scanning the city parks for a public toilet. It was my first Colorado stop of the pandemic journey, and I came to find that there were none available. In fact, I visited three city parks before I reconciled that my best relief option was to make tracks to a private corner of under-story or brush pile and squat. How glorious is such a simple act as emptying a full bladder. A piece of heaven. I promised myself to be more mindful of using rest stop facilities whenever I could.
Judyth is moving closer to town. Clearly, my visit has a mission -help her pack. Her place is full to brimming with precious things: a bit of gallery, a bit of temple and a whole lot of library. Every surface is occupied. She has been frantic and for good reason. Called it divine directions, but thwarting the second law of thermodynamics is a favorite pastime of mine. We sat down and sorted the order of operation for this disassembly and packing, as she chose a mover, and then we leaned in. My daily routine is wonderful - coffee in the brisk Rocky Mountain morning air, sending her off to do her fairy camp assignment, taking Paddy for walk 1, doing a little writing, packing a half dozen boxes, lunch, taking a Arapaho National Forest hike or running an errand in town, then back to Judyth's to debrief with her on her camp day and settle into talking about the latest developments in our nation's insanity or social evolution, dinner making (always sumptuous) and then Rachel Maddox or a few episodes of Work in Progress or The Expanse. I'm acclimating to the new time zones.
Yesterday, I drove to Cub Creek Trail-head and set off for a morning ramble. Within the first thirty minutes, I realized that I forgot to bring water so it ended up being a short hike. When we returned to the trail head and my car, Paddy dashed off toward a camp because there was another dog there. Her people were stranded because of car trouble, and while the dogs scampered about the lot, I talked with them. Their truck had transmission problems, unfortunate in this terrain, and one of them planned to walk into town to get transmission fluid and gas. Seeing how Paddy signaled to me that they were good people, I volunteered to give him a ride, it was a long hot walk to Walmart. I got their story on the drive in - they'd just moved from the Dallas area to escape the malicious malfeasance of his sister, she sounded like a psycho case. They were still fairly young but both were disabled, and they came to Colorado so that he could get paid to be his wife's caretaker. But they did need a place to live. And a working vehicle, I thought. I mentioned how difficult this already tough situation must be in this time of Corona-virus. He said, "Shit, I forgot to get a mask." I had some extra and as I dropped him off at the Walmart curb, I gave him one and some money for a ride back. Paying it forward, I told him, as I counted my blessings once again.
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