Day 69

No coast walk today. A short narrative, perhaps the start of something bigger.

Desert Rat

Ted would not come for another two days. Till then, there was little, nothing really, to do. 

A steady trickle of runoff from the eaves was cutting a gully through the sand of the front “yard.” Nothing defined the end of the desert and the beginning of the yard, so he could have referred to all of creation as the front yard, but instinctively he drew a mental boundary some twenty feet out from the front door beyond which was the desert. He suspected the desert on the other hand ignored his existence altogether.

The rain stopped and the blue-black bellied clouds blew on toward the southwest. The last of the rain trickled off the roof and down the newly formed mini-arroyo. The air was fresh – he savored the dust free cleanliness that somehow still smelled of soil. He did not want to leave now. Wasn’t at all sure he ever had wanted to, but certainly no longer. Life didn’t permit that, however. “Miles to go before I sleep,” he muttered, as unconvinced of the necessity and as convinced of the inevitability as Frost’s watcher in the woods.

In a week he would be back on campus, in two back in the classroom, arguing with students that there was more to life than a paycheck. There was but he was going back to earn that paycheck so he could come back here next summer, and maybe in winter too, if the family let him. They had gone home a month ago. Or rather left here and made some other visits on the way home. Horseback riding, tarantula hunting, and the other distractions of the desert that had been so exciting two months ago had slowly ebbed into the mundane—a condition that the kids would be many more years coming to appreciate.

* * *

“Don’t worry; I’ll take care of them.”

“I know Ted. It’s just there’s the connection. The assurance I’ll be back.”

Ted nodded, though Walsh doubted Ted understood. No that was unfair. He doubted Ted cared? No, he’d care. What was it then? What Ted didn’t understand was leaving. If you loved the place, loved the horses, then why were you packing up your stuff and going back “to the city"? Ted understood, Walsh realized; he was the one with no answers.

“Okay, Ted. I’ll give you a call if I’ll be out in December.”

“Good enough, Doc.”

Walsh didn’t go back in the house. The horses had been the last. He locked the door, climbed into the pick-up with Ted and they left. He never looked back. He had the first time and realized immediately that he’d end up like Lott’s wife he did it again.