Our trip back to
Kansas was interesting and dull, painful and relaxing, tiring and relaxing – a
paradoxical trip in these and other unexpected ways.
Range after range
of mountains appeared along I-10, then disappeared behind us as yet another (or
two or three) came into view. The affection I had acquired for this basin and
range landscape came as a surprise to me as the ranges appeared farther and farther
apart.
Eventually the
mountain ranges became wooded hills and the desert flora changed from ocotillo
and cacti to scrubby cedars.
After an overnight
visit in Albuquerque with Jim, we headed east toward Tucumcari, a town of
abandoned motels, gas stations, and other deserted, collapsing buildings. When
we crossed into the Texas panhandle the outlook became even more depressing
because of vast, reeking cattle feed lots and fields ornamented with huge
irrigation mechanisms sucking the last drops from the ever-shrinking Oglalla
Aquifer. I couldn’t bear to photograph what we were seeing.
At last we crossed
into southwestern Kansas where we came upon the green fields of wheat my eyes
were so hungry to see again.
At last we pulled
into our driveway and my heart sang to find sweet William (wild phlox) and pink
tulips blooming in our little memorial to friends who have passed on.
Traveling with an
injured foot, I had spent a lot of time with it propped on the dashboard, which
resulted in a painful crick in my neck that lasted three weeks after we arrived
home.
So, here we are,
weeks later, cataract surgery behind me, crick in the neck gone, rain several
times a week, and green all around me. As much as I love the wooded scenes
surrounding our Kansas home, I’d love to look out the window and see Tucson’s
Santa Catalina Mountains aglow in the setting sun.
Life is, indeed, a
paradox.
Copyright
2017 by Shirley Domer
