Leaving & Arriving

Leaving to move to another town for the first time in more than two years (a record for our family), inflow gusts of a thunderstorm cell rapidly building over the east bend of the river picked up loose sand from its bed and pulled it over the bridge as we were crossing it. Being young and romantically impressionable, but not completely blind to realities, it seemed a sign of things to come. Disruptive and harsh, still nothing about the sand blow was especially threatening or dangerous. It just looked very cool. So my thought cycle accelerated and played through scenarios of things to come which might or might not all pan out in the end.

I didn't realize at the time what beauty its potential, if fanciful, portent held beyond being a visual spectacle. Then the next decade of life unfolded fast and full of every-increasing vectors I could have never imagined the day the sand arced up and over that river bridge.

Paralleling the river's course south for several miles, we turned east, crossed it and then crossed ancient granite mountains long buried and worn down to nubs of their former majestic heights. Arriving late at night, we tumbled into the motel beds and slept soundly without getting a good look at the town we would call home for almost two more years.