Rabbit holes

7.4.23

Such strange times. I am adrift, in irons, so to speak. No plans, no direction home. I paid my rent, talked to the bank, got some things shifted. I have nowhere to be but here.

There are Westfalia mechanics somewhere nearby. I had a scary stall-out down south on a narrow, winding road; helpful strangers, Cal trans workers, CHP Officer Keller came and directed traffic until I opened the engine hatch and snugged something down that had gotten shaken loose. Westy started right up, and I found a place to pull over and sit for a while. It was recommended I turn back for the last, best, biggest town. Spirit said keep on, and that was the right call. I was on the road at 7:30 AM, and it was now nearly 10, so I took the lesson kindly–don’t rush, don’t push. What makes you happy? Head for the coast. As soon as I crossed the state line I saw a cat rescue/thrift store, and had to make three sketchy turns to get to it. I bought a CD that wouldn’t play, a shirt that turned out to itch, and a pair of excellent unworn earth origins boots. (“Do not put shoes on the floor, the cats pee on them”) Good deal.

I decided to spend another night camping rather that push again. Crazy winds on the coast. I picked up a stuffed whale shark and some chowder on the last leg. Got to my sister’s place on Thursday around noon, cool, chance of rain, so we burned some old tax files in the fire pit. Sorting through her stuff, she gave me a drawing she had made years ago–the Rabbits! I have a vivid memory of it, from childhood, had recently spoken of it to a couple of friends. I had no idea it could materialize here, now.

We went to look at the place she is moving to- a wood stove, and cool faux river stones painted on plywood. She trimmed my hair. We went to the beach where we had scattered Mom’s ashes all those years ago, then I took her to dinner. Wow, my first beer in . . . I don’t even know how long. It’s good to be home.