I woke to warmth close to my skin and again it seemed as if it was the most natural place to be as it rained on outside. Rain that hasn’t stopped for days. The weather so cool for June and although many of us has recently longed for the sun to come back and visit us we in some ways have enjoyed the absent of its brightness, not having to squint our eyes quite so hard from its grasp.

We took our time leaving the house. I knew we wouldn’t get on the road by noon but I was not stressed by that fact and enjoyed the slower pace we took. After stopping by the store, we are now on our way to one of the eight wonders of the Kansas: The Garden of Eden.

The last time I drove this highway with someone else it was with Ryan Creamer before he went back to Wisconsin (Which is where that poem “Break-Up of my Landscape came from and was first called Landscape at 32--except for the line about being a Midwestern woman that came from Craig). That trip so far back in my mind now that even where I drove to Denver to see Taylor I didn’t recall much of that trip. I really only remember one thing as important and that was being caught in the rain and standing under an a gas station smoking. Our relantionship was pretty much over by that time.

Today, it is north with Nathan. We have not said a word in at least 30 minutes but I don’t feel at all awkward about the silence. It is as refreshing as seeing a red barn in the middle of the field. Still standing . . . .

I have once again become fascinated with birds, more importantly, sparrows. Besides being a word I hold too dear for no apparent reason I am over-interested in its flight path, the way it’s wings move through the wind and how it spends much time on the ground hoping around waiting for something to deliver it from itself.


Is this the place where I mention the silence frightens me?

Soon, we will reach the space in the Plains where the landscape begins to change. It becomes green rolling hills of such awe that the last time I drove through it I was alone and wish I had had someone to share my longing to roll down the hill and feel the grass between my toes. It was a sunny day and the whole land shone with such wonderment. Beauty is often overlooked.

This morning I saw the same light in his eyes.




We had a lovely journey into the Garden of Eden. I was amazed that one man had within his soul the ability to make what he saw with his eyes into beauty. His birthday was March 8. Nathan took many pictures and I laid on the ground and looked up in awe of what I saw: an angel falling towards me, the broad and wondrous hips of Eves body. How Adam looked so much like his creator. I walked under an ivory covered walkway and knew he was behind me and . . .

I sat on a stone bench and ate a tangy orange. I worried about nothing for a moment and watch my lover take pictures. The sun finally showing itself to us again and we are both in high spirits after a beer in the local diner, a trip to the small local market, and a wonderfully interesting chat with an artist who had a studio. I bought a beautiful porcelain piece of a tiger leaping through the air and three sweet small doves looking on. It required a credit card for purchase and thankfully I remember to bring one.

Now we are going to Lawrence, and Nathan has told me to keep my eyes on the left as the clouds may become something worth seeing as the sun sets.



8:30 pm

We have driven back into the rain, just outside of Salina. The sun in its usual place, grasp a tad bit outside of our reach and slowing guiding us to the dark of evening.

We have been working on telling our stories to each other since before our first kiss. I am amazed at my ability to at times and after a series of breath to be so candid with this man.
I was going to say something witty here about sinners and saints but have now been distracted by the touch of his right hand touching my left hand.

Trees line the highway and I have always wondered what this landscape looked like before the dust bowl. I know I have seen pictures but it is not like seeing them with your eyes. Your heart.

10:52 pm

The highway is dark. We have just finished dinner at the Cracker Barrel in Junction City where the waitress saw us kissing through the window as we left. We ride on through the dark and speak openly about things even if at the moment they may not be the most pleasant of conversation topics.

I am glad to know that it is to just me who sees myself as a woman who has come fully back around to front. I cannot change the past but I have, to use an over stated phrase) made peace with it. If you are only given as much as you can handle, than I am as strong as the ocean.

2:46

I am lying on a bed in a room in Lawrence. When we arrived we went and had drinks with Nathan's friend Ryan at the Red Lion. After a pitcher of Guinness we sat on Mass st. and watch and listened to a man playing the hand drums. Across the street I was taken in by a person draped in a white sheet sitting in front of Weavers front doors. It reminded me of the road trip that Melissa and I took some years back. A man draped in gray wool sitting in front of St. Mary's in San Fransisco holding a crudely painted sign "I have AIDS, please help." The smell of the ocean near by and no idea what help I could give except for a rumbled dollar bill I fished out of my handbag before running off to the jazz bar where we ran up a $300 dollar tap that some lawyer paid for us.