You know what they say about how it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. Well, the journey was beautiful. 360 miles to Valentine on Highway 90 through the desert, at times so close to the border we were wondering if we’d be able to see it, it all was a thing of beauty and wonder. Once we got here, though, we crossed the railroad tracks, as instructed, and found our little house, glimmering Airstream adjacent, on a street that is too desolate to be called a street at all. Some of the other houses seem abandoned. The horses next door look like they could use a few solid meals, so does the small black dog that came running up to our porch but didn’t dare approach us. The house itself is well appointed enough, I suppose, but its “faux rural luxe,” as a friend called it to whom I texted a picture, depresses me. And so, sitting outside painting the Airstream – the inside of which doesn’t even qualify as “faux rural luxe” – I had an unexpected moment of introspection. Remote locations attract me, wilderness attracts me. But as soon as I get somewhere truly remote, all I want to do is come back to an urban location. In some ways perhaps I needed to come here to learn this about myself and to find closure of sorts, because this is not only true for places I’m attracted to, but sometimes also for people. I suppose it helps to understand some things are truly lovely, but not for me. Tomorrow night we’ll be staying at a hotel in Alpine.
Girl go get a hotel room lol! Stay safe!!
Haha, I did! I don’t know why I didn’t see your comment until now. My brain must have been frozen. Lol.