Heaving Lome

Slated to leave on Thursday, on Wednesday night Abbey helped pack the last of my life into 3 totes, 2 trunks, and random odds-n-ends; ice ax, snow shoes, clothes, gym bags, and fishing rods. All stuffed into Pickle. But Pickle is sick. She has some sort of persistent incontinence issue but gets shy bladder around Car Doctors. So on Thursday morning I tried one last visit to see if they could fix whatever was leaking fluid and smoke. It took them all day to ascertain they could not identify the problem.

So I visited the newly minted Mr. & Mrs. Daugherty. The Mr. and I dropped off a car load of good will at Goodwill, then he left me to visit Employee of the Year at North Kansas City Hospital. I did office yoga and snacked on fresh garden veggies with Mom and her gals. It deepens relationship when you experience the workplace of a loved one. After all, we spend a lot of time at work! I am glad at the community Mom is immersed in; it is a good one, full of good people.

On my way out, Mother spoke reason, reminding me that taking off at 5 pm, when Pickle was free, would mean driving late into the night, and all that comes with that. She suggested instead we take a Mulligan Family Last Night. So we did.

That evening I picked mom up from work, we fetched Pickle and the Young Daughtertys and together we supped. Father rang in and we met him in Fairy Tale Flooded Parkville for a round of Mini Golf and ice cream. We watched the flooding park and sang about driving our Chevy’s to levies that were dry. Between the clouds and blue in the sky, a rainbow was cast.

Then goodbyes began in earnest. There is a certain emotional point at which good-byeing becomes unsustainable. Each heart is different. And when you aren’t sure when you will see each other again. It hurts. I couldn’t look Little Sister in the eye for fear of being overcome. The kind of pressure which snaps sanity like a twig.

That night I got a team hug from the ‘rents. The next morning’s goodbyes were buffered by a haze of sleepiness, as they leave early. A few hours later I awoke and went about wrapping things up.

Pickle was packed. The cat and dog followed me from room to room, querulous. I made a third and final sweep of the house for items forgotten, before sitting down in the doorway and explaining the situation to the animals. Chloe batted her chocolatey brown eyes. Olivia yawned. I left.

I drove in silence. I put in music given to me by loved ones. I sang and bounced and was exuberant. I became too exuberant and pulled into a corn field to be sick. Then I hit the road for real.

Kansas rolled by, measured in gas station stops. Hail storms greeted me at the Colorado border, then the skies cleared and there, laid out before me like a center fold angel, were the Rockies. Denver glittered in the curve of her waistline.

592 miles of I-70 and I was in Denver. Cam, an old Phil-Buddy, introduced me to his home, dog, friends, and his gal. They all fit him quite nicely. I like seeing friends making life.That evening I stood on his front doorstep, looking out across the Denver skyline, over which a rainbow arched.

The next morning, Pickle whined into the foothills. I liked the look of inflowing traffic. At least half of the vehicles had bikes affixed to them. Others had dogs hanging out the window. Air was lighter.

Jagged mountain peaks were beacons, calling me. So I went.

To Frisco, Colorado.

Also, I forgot my phone charger at home…

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