This is a journal note from time in the Bosque del Apache. I often write these in my head while I’m “working.” Of all the things I take time to create, these little vignettes might be the most important simply for the reason they allow my mind to wander.
A spin of the dial and the shower water hits. Ice cold or boiling hot, either way, the body shocks, and fights while making millions of minute decisions. Twenty-five degrees and the burn of winter returns. Ice crystals edging new eyes not yet in need of glass, still pure and filled with wonder. An Indiana replay of white, brown, and gray.
Tetherball in mittens, recess whistle blown but just one more swing before the trudge of slush and un-layering in the steamy mess of the school. Life a simple mix of fear, excitement, and sickness. Math class, motorcycles, and asthma. Eyes wide open, the breath fails. Summers on the riverbank. Half in, half out.
The fifty on my shoulder feels good. Neither light nor heavy. Just right, and when brought to the eye it signifies, just for an instant, the end of the hunt. And just as fast, down again as the retina to brain connection sputters, starts, and sparks again.
There is more sand in the bottom half of the hourglass. Dust swirls, twists, and spins as the vortex blends us together and pushes us apart.