Nearly a week ago we woke before dawn (some of us Stayed Up All Night) and drove across the dark desert toward the airport, waving goodbye to Albuquerque as the sun cracked across it, as a handful of lizards and one brave coyote darted in front of the rental car shuttle van and made it to the other side, unscathed.
Since then we’ve been back in our verdant Pennsylvania, big green wet and humming, sweet air, river air, the air from the fiberglass factory. I am sipping coffee in my favorite room of this new cat house— the large screen porch with the sturdy wooden table, looking out onto the yard that bursts with tomatoes, peas, squash rioting, the shade-bearing pines that shield me from alley-view. It is easy to forget that we ever left at all.
Desert kisses to all. Sage and sand and big sky that shows you everything.