I had to get home

As happens so often with me, I didn’t know what I needed until it was right on top of me.  I didn’t know that I had to hear the nighthawk (HAD to) screaming in the golden evening light and the loud BRRRRRRR that it makes as it’s diving towards it’s prey until I heard it above me, diving. Walking to close the gate, which I WAS going to leave open because of the rain, the muddy soil, I heard her in the sky and my heart stopped in my chest. I didn’t know that I HAD to see the kestrel fly over my head, low to the ground as I extended my walk down the driveway.  She must’ve been hunting. Or welcoming me home. I must’ve needed the petrichor; the way the Earth smells after a rain, even the soft, short rain that we got here today, how it opens my sinuses, my throat, my lungs, an embrace.

 

I was gone for almost ten hours today.

I don’t do that very well anymore, being gone from home.

Neither do the dogs.

 

I SHOULD HAVE PUT  in the doggie door, they seemed to stare those words at me as they whined to be let out when I finally got home.

 

The house smelled of dog shit.

 

Poor dogs.  It was not their fault.  And you could tell they tried to hold it in because it was VERY soft.  And you could tell they made a point to do it on the throw rugs, easy to clean; easier to clean than a brick floor or a poured earth floor.

 

I am exhausted.

 

I was exhausted four hours ago, when I was waiting in Moriarity…

Hot and sweaty waiting in the truck, listening to Stephen King, “The Stand.”  

(I know how to pick ‘em.  Yes I do. Pandemic for a pandemic.)

 

I needed to hear the hummingbirds fight over the feeder when I returned, to refill the feeder, water the garden,; the withering plants, walk through the desert barefoot.

 

I have learned how to walk through the desert barefoot, like my dogs.  It’s not that hard and really wonderful, soft earth gives beneath the weight of me, between my toes.  It’s a way to reconnect. I got rid of most of my sandals when I moved to the desert thinking there was no way I would ever wear them again, walking through the cholla, prickly pear, hedgehog cactus infested land.  I was all cowgirl boots and thick soled shoes.

HAHAHAHA!

 

Once upon a time I thought I knew so much.

 

Oh, I had to get home today.

 

I left at 8:30 and got home after 6:00.  Poor dogs.  I had all sorts of errands to run and a couple of quick meetings with artists before I could return.  I am really starting to realize how much I have made this place my home.  I am learning how I have GOT TO QUIT overextending.

Nerves at my wits end before my errands are close to being done...

Until, finally, back home I am embraced in a way no husband ever could.

So many hours in Albuquerque with traffic and stores and people and noise and more stores and more needs…

Once upon a time I spent half of my life in the busiest places on Earth, airports, cool cucumber me and now I can’t stand Eubank Avenue in podunk Albuquerque…

 

At home there was a rainbow, a double rainbow out my window.

And a nighthawk screaming in the sky.

15 hummingbirds if there were three.

Animals running across my roof.

A kestrel.

Two dogs so happy to see me.

 

As I drove down Riley Road heading home, I saw the Manzanos in the rain.

I saw Capilla Peak and Bosque Peak and Manzano Mountain.  I felt the weight of my backpack on my back and the breath of my dead husband on my neck.

The laughter of Karl and Billy as we settled in to camp for the night.

Dirt filled hiking shoes and crusty socks to air dry in the crisp mountain air.

Dehydrated food.

Instant coffee.

 

The smell of the air 10,000 feet high.

The heavy breathing of dogs near the sleeping bag.

The shooting stars.

 

I had to get home.

My dogs were waiting for me.

They needed me, too.