.png)
The doctor was clear, matter of fact. The only thing that will help Kathy is moving to Arizona, the desert. For several years she had suffered, missed weeks of school, weekly shots, multiple medications, all the while often confined within the house, a dehumidifier sucking the moisture out of the air. Every time she went outside, starting in the fall, she would need to bundle up, face covered with a scarf. A normal life for Kathy would require family to head west, just like the commercial proclaimed. Take your sinus to Arizona.
Perhaps we should visit first?
This is my story.
The ride was long.
The weather was hot.
The ride was boring.
The trip took forever.
No air conditioning.
Each day; the sun got bigger.
Each day; the sun got brighter.
Mom was miserable.
Mom sat on a bag of ice.
Kathy owned the back seat.
Dad drove without complaint.
I occupied the backseat floor.
We would stay with the Treats.
One daughter.
One son.
Dad, a professor at the University.
The sky was vast, with endless visibility.
The sky was clear blue; it was a dry heat.
The old cars, not a touch of rust to be seen.
The girls, yes, girls dressed for poolside.
This was not a vacation, this was a research project. But, for me, this place was incredible, the food was delicious, Tucson new and shiny, the roads wide, and not a snowflake in sight. Mrs. Treat had made a large pot of chili con carne. Every morning, I was the first person up, sneaking into the refrigerator, scooping out a bowl of chili, eating it cold! Even now my mouth waters.
And the church, really, how many cute girls could attend one church, the University Church of Christ? (Did you notice the word University, a college town)
But we had to head home through the Grand Canyon. The weather was milder as we traveled north, but for a person afraid of heights traveling the roads through canyons, not so much fun, for mom. I can’t recall if she actually got out at the Grand Canyon. The biggest hole in the earth I had experienced. We passed by several national parks and monuments, parked, walked up, and looked down into canyons with narrow pathways into the abyss. Nope, back to the car. Last stop in Arizona was the Petrified Forest, where, and I told no one, smuggled out a shard, a souvenir.
And now, the long drive back snoozing on the floor of our car, everything looked the same as the trip out. The best part of the drive eastward, detours and construction zones. But how I dreamed of sitting poolside in the middle of the day, not a snowflake to be seen except on top of Mt. Lemon while I sun bathed and made friends.
When, back in Chemung County, Elmira and the vicinity, pulling myself up onto the back seat, stepping out of the auto, it felt dark (even in the middle of the day), dreary, old, humid, claustrophobic.
That fall in English class, the first assignment was to write about your summer. I did. I wrote about the Grand Canyon. Mistake. I said it was boring. Can you believe the teacher chewed me out because I shared an opinion? Made fun of me from the front the room while reading my story. Really, a hole in the ground compared to a new city, great food, cars that never rust, no shoveling snow. Did I mention a university town? Tucson, Arizona (213,000) compared to Horseheads, New York (30,000). A city versus a farming community.
Comentários