We hiked across the parking lot to the lodge with their gear bags and skis, crunching hard-packed snow as we went. Liv and Nate headed off to their separate locker rooms, and I wandered off to check out the lodge. It was still kind of early, with only a handful of serious skiers there, ready to hit the slopes before the droves showed up. I shuffled past rows and rows of empty tables and blue metal chairs and went outside. The air was fresh and brilliant, strangely reminding me of a crisp apple and sheets warm from the dryer. I breathed in heavily and felt my stress melt away.
After a few minutes, I went back inside and sat down at a table facing the window and pulled out my dad’s copy of Stranger in a Strange Land. I thought I would give it a read. A lot of passages were highlighted, and notes were scribbled down the sides of the pages. I flipped to a random page and found one of his highlighted sections. It read:
Love is that condition in which the happiness of another is essential to your own.
And Dad wrote next to this:
Never forget this. Love is an action. In ways many and small. Love others until you see how essential they are to you.
I thought that was pretty profound for my Dad. I turned back to the beginning and started to read. Moments later, I was asleep across the table. About three hours later, Liv woke me up. I was on the floor behind a bunch of oversized gear bags, and I have no idea how I got there. The bags were grey and black, like my clothes, so I blended in.
“Dude?! We were looking all over for you. You didn’t answer your phone!”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and it was dead. I sat up and told her I was sorry.
“That farm is wearing you out. Nate and I should go look at it and see if it’s even habitable. You are welcome at our place anytime, you know that, but maybe you need to stay out there during the week and back to our place on the weekend.” I told her she was probably right. Nate walked up just then.
“Oh, she’s okay,” he sighed a relief. Then, realizing I was on the floor, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Liv answered for me, “but she’s exhausted! We have got to do something about it. Right?”
Nate looked at me for an answer, and I yawned my mouth open like an alligator. “Yes, of course,” he agreed.
“We can’t go out tomorrow because we have a thing at church.” She’d invited me a few times but finally gave up. “How about next Saturday?”
“Okay.” I tried to picture her and Nate in Dad’s living room, but the physics of it failed me.
Last Sunday
I slept the entire morning and part of the afternoon. I got up when Liv and Nate got back from church and went out for coffee by myself. I drove up to the train depot and looked out over Boise. I remember coming here as a kid – just barely. I thought of calling Mom but texted her instead.
Hope everything’s good. How’s Starvey?
Mom had been dating a guy named Harvey who ate like a starving Grizzly bear and had a bit of a beer gut.
Don’t call him that. And he’s fine. Hannah and his new g’daughter are staying with us. How are you, baby?
Hannah was Harvey’s daughter with his second wife. Mom would be his third if she’d ever agree, but she’s refused his proposal for close to a year. I think he may be resigned to living in sin by now.
Cold.
No duh. Farm going well?
Ish. Probably need to move in for a while if I ever want to get it ready to sell.
Liv tired of you?
No. I’m tired of the commute. She feels bad for me.
Fish and houseguests, baby.
Huh?
They stink after three days. I miss you.
Me, too. Bye.
Call me soon.
Monday – Wednesday (Today)
This week I am following the same schedule as last week, morning on chores, afternoon at the library, but I decided to stay over tonight. I had dinner from stuff out of the cabinet. Green beans, corn, a corn dog from the convenient store, and for desert, blackberry jam on some crackers that miraculously were not stale. I’ve been writing the last week down before I forget things, but I should probably go to sleep now, it’s just really quiet out here. And dark.
January 31, 2013 (Thursday)
When I woke up it was still dark. I decided to make a quick trip to the coffee kiosk next to the convenient store about 15 minutes from here. The sun started coming up, as I headed back with an extra macchiato for Sheila and a hot chocolate for Elliot. I saw Elliot about halfway down the road, so I pulled up to my spot and carried the drink holder back down to the gate to meet him. “How-do,” he said. He pulled his wool hat down, accepted the hot chocolate, and thanked me.
He mentioned yesterday that he needed to go do some things for her. “Wanna go over to Sheila’s first?”
“Yep.”
So, we walked over and Sheila and I visited while Elliot did some horse care for her.
She has two quarter
