The figurative me is out walking among the Salt Flats. I have, I estimate, driven over these Salt Flats while over 50 times. Evening summer crossings are some of my fondest memories. I could often see dark rain clouds gather over the desert as we drove east toward Salt Lake. In a few minutes, lighting would flash off in the distance. A few minutes of rain would fall. And then the smell would hit--that beautiful smell that rises when the water hits the dry, hot tar of I-80. On great days, you can get this smell all the way into Salt Lake City . At that moment, I know that the desert will be cool enough to sleep for a night.
Other trips have not been so pleasant as those summer evening drives. In November 1983, when Christian was just a baby, we were taking home to California to introduce him to my father. Dorey and I slid across the desert in a winter storm, and worried that we would never get Christian to my father. I hope never to make that trip again.
The figurative me has walked 689 miles since leaving Alameda. I will be in Salt Lake City in 50 miles. The picture in the mural is not located out in the desert, but in Berlin.
No comments:
Post a Comment