I have done it. Taken off, flown away. Alone. Here I am--in the Reno airport. I have managed to find a rather nice rocking chair among gentleman in business suits, staring at a wooden bear and its cub, in front of fake trees. Under, of course, a sparkling neon pink sign for the El Dorado Hotel and Casino.
I have not flown by myself for a long time. It feels like the last time was when we returned from Colorado, right before River turned two. The boys flew out of Hayden, I drove to Denver. Strange re-entry into Philly grading papers furiously as I fly cross-continental.
No, wait, there was that time in southern California, for Megan's bachelorette, just after we moved to Boise. I had a glorious two days with the gals, and beach. Last afternoon on my own cycling up and down a tiny edge of the continent. By the time I got on the plane home, my equilibrium was off-pulled unusually by the tide. By the next evening I figured out I was pregnant. That was the last time I flew alone, for sure.
So heading South. Oh, how I long to keep going! So close to Mexico. Just a bit further and I have crossed, made it, back.
We started driving at the end of September. Heading to Utah and the unusual land formations of Goblin Valley. Hitting the Southern Utah parks--Escalante, Zion. Traveling along drying rivers. Then, was the Grand Canyon next? The coldest night in the tent by far. The deep abyss--there is the Colorado.--all the way down here. The lines of tourists. Us, thinking we were somehow outside of that. Still looking for an outside. Then driving further. "I wish we could just find a little oasis somewhere. Clean, comfy, a pool.
Next thing we know, just north of Phoenix appears Arcosante. A little oasis. Clean, comfy, a pool. Cheap. Bells. Rest.
We are closer now. We could just drive there right? All the way through Copper Canyon. When would we arrive in Oaxaca? Would we arrive in Oaxaca?
Then, Tucson and Blaise. Of course, Blaise. And packing, and panickng. And Departure. By plane now. The car left behind at Blaise's parent's house. His parents. Should I have tried to see them again on this trip?
The return to Tucson 3 months later--spit out. Broke, disillusioned and inspired all at the same time.
Those deep brown Angelito eyes. Struggling to see.
Do you know what we saw in Chiapas?
Cenote. Cool and deep.
Cracks already in the fissures. Heading up North now. Snow on the high-dessert above Flagstaff. Lake Powell.
To Erika today. Dear friend. Dancing delight. Since we were just teeny ballerinas. Dance camp summers of total silliness and boys and bathing suits and tip toes.
We both had babies. Together. I call to tell her I am getting married and having a baby and she is having a baby. And we have our first boys just 2 months apart. The exact amount apart in reverse as between me and her. And then she is pregnant. And not me. No way. And then not and then I am and she is and we are. Again, the kids five months apart this time and of opposite genders. And then she is again, and me NO WAY. And then, I am and we are, and then. I'm not. And she is there--the first one and stays there and lets me cry and tells me she understands and its o.k.
So now, this baby is coming. This little Lydia. So, here I am. We are together in this still.
To Tucson.
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