Christmas came and quietly went. I warmly welcome this departure of pelagic nativity donned by the crusaders of the New World. I've been trying to gently explain to my partner of five months that Christmas has never been my cup of tea. Rather, it can make me feel nauseous or otherwise unfit for celebratory clattering. I think she's taking it well, though i get an inkling of her disappointment. She loves the maraud of giftgiving, the tree, the ornaments and stockings, and the schizophrenic wonderings of accidental exclusion. Can't forget anyone or they'll interpret it as a lack of love, or change of heart. Isn't that terrifying? That so much resides on locating a gift and its positive betrothal with the recipient.
I gave it my all, i actually rather enjoyed this year's holiday. We spent a sum of days in California, an eight-hundred mile drive door-to-door. It began early one morning in a rainstorm. My sedan chunked along the mountain pass at six-thousand feet, a nervous struggle with the driving rain likely freezing to the roadway. Eventually we reached the flats of Idaho and Nevada, poring along the highways and interstates at record speeds. Despite our rush the trip takes a minimum of twelve hours.
Awaiting us in California: friends on my side, a full liquor cabinet admist a million-dollar home, a giant tree decked and strewn with presents at its base. The days passed well, and then it was Christmas. I grew nervous seated there, already drinking at eight in the morning. I could see my name upon a few packages... fearing the scene of many eyes and an invisible approval rating. But things turned out well and my cynicism somehow hung back long enough for the event to occur. It reminded me at times of a cartoon catfight, figures lost in a cloud of dust and paws. That was the scene beneath the tree; wrappings, ribbons, and bows in the air. The sound of tearing and the spoonfed anticipation and childsplay of giving and expectant reciprocation.
The trip home began at four in the morning. It'd been snowing all night and i'd kept turning down the blinds to see the accumulation. I have a small sentra with front-wheel drive, new all seasons, but no chains. I put the coffee on early, nervous for the trip. It began with an eight-thousand pass, luckily following three snowplows to the summit as the wind whipped by with plentiful snow. The plows left us alone on the summit and we descended toward Carson City in a veritable foot of white, downshifting into the utterly black night. Somehow surviving that, passed the "chain requirement" signs and gas gauge on empty, i sped into the bright city of Reno. The city quieted by the season, empty streets, devoid of the greasy spoon for which i searched. Pressed on, eating a surprisingly great breakfast in Fernley inside a casino. The sound of pull slots wafted in. A trucker-type was sitting with a line of Coors empties, burning cigarettes at a machine near the front door. A pair of elderly women were working the video poker screens on the other end, not speaking to one another. We cleaned our plates and left some money on the table.
The drive continued straight, so fucking literally straight as I-80 settled the high plateau of Nevada's interior. Passing time with radio stations, knuckles nearly white holding the wheel against dangerous winds hitting the car. Saw an awful wind wreck: truck jack-knifed, shredded rv, and crotchrocket turned on its side. Obvious loss of lives.
It was a nervous, deliberate drive across two states. Finally reaching eastern Idaho and readying for the final leg as night fell. That's when my fifth gear dropped out of the race. How could this happen? I had to hold it in for a hundred miles, pushing the interstate as cars passed me on the left. Then it grew worse with the last century of miles, popping out regardless. Had to be satisfied with fourth; kept petting the dashboard like Herbie reincarnate. The sun set, another snowstorm arrived and the epic journey continued. We arrived late in the evening, sore and disgruntled passed the point of caring. Laughing like okies with wires showing from the wheels and muffler lacking. Set our sights for one of the first joints in our town of Jackson. Sat down for dinner at the bar, only seated a second 'fore we pulled out the chairs and settled for standing.
When i awoke this morning i felt like an old man, but i felt good and young inside. Glad to be home, lying in bed with my lover no matter how crazy she is. Looking outside at the white landscape as the coffee steeps in the kitchen...
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