Paradox

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