July 1st
Dear Mom,
Do you remember telling me to read The Art of War? One of the lines from it has been running through my head on repeat.
“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.”
I feel like I’ve never been weaker than now. Not only emotionally, cried out and hiding in my trailer from the bright lights of Sin City. But physically, the heat of the desert sun sapping me of all energy.
I decided to come down here now since my car got fixed in Oregon. It’s probably the safest time to venture across the desert.
I stopped off in Reno on Tuesday, but first I drove north of Gerlach and took a three hour nature walk with a small tour group to see Fly Geyser.
It was honestly everything you said it would be. I can’t imagine being the poor person drilling a well and accidentally creating a geyser.
And the colors… Well, the colors of the algae make it one of my favorite things I’ve seen on this trip so far.
Today I took a hike through the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. They really need to find a new name because that one is way too long.
It’s beautiful country though, and I took lots of pictures, though none of rainbows since it’s Nevada and hasn’t rained for three weeks.
The Canyon has so many shades of red, with towering rocks that looked like spires in the shimmering heat haze.
The walk itself wasn’t too warm since a lot of it is shaded from the sun by the surrounding mountains.
I’m heading toward Utah next, and looking forward to Lake Powell and Zion National Park. Not to guarantee that I’ll see either of those places. I refuse to plan details even a week ahead. Anything could happen between now and then. No one will ever have to remind me of that again.
I went out for supper. There’s some really cool places once you get away from the strip. The performers along the streets are cool, but intimidating in their confidence.
America is so much bigger than I realized. It takes so much longer to drive the distances between the cities I’ve heard of than I would have thought possible. Even the drive from Reno to Las Vegas seemed interminable.
Fortunately I’ve discovered an app on my phone where I can download books and music. I’ve been jamming out to my eighties rock and roll, and wishing you were here to tell me I should be listening to Faust instead. I even downloaded The Turn of the Screw because it’s a classic, and now I’m scared of children and being alone in this little camper with so little to protect me.
I suppose anyone who has an interest in true crime shows and podcasts would tell me I should have realized the danger I’ve willingly put myself in from the start.
I can’t bring myself to care very much. If the worst that happens is being taken out of this pain-filled existence, it would almost be a favor. To be able to see you again, be welcomed by your loving embrace, not have to force myself to keep going, to keep breathing and seeking out the sun every morning.
I’m so tired, Mom. So tired of doing everything I have to do to be human right now. I don’t want to get up and shower every morning and make sure the camper’s ready with nothing rolling around.
But I want even less to be back in my college dorm room, or worse yet back home, the empty house waiting for your return.
Before I left my ears kept perking up because I thought I heard you coming downstairs, or the door would open, and I thought I’d hear your voice calling for me to help you unload the groceries from the car.
At least I don’t have to live with that expectation. Not for as long as I am on the road, showering every day, and never staying in one place too long.
I’m not sure how this restless feeling coexists with the exhaustion I feel through every molecule of my being, but it does.
Sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to. Someone who would sit next to me and let me pour my heart out to them, but I can’t think of anyone in my life I actually want with me right now.
You. I want you.
I love youBo
Even as far away from the strip as I am, the flashing lights are filtering through my curtains, lighting up the page I’m writing on with unnatural colors.
I wonder if most of the people in the world are just as lonely as me, surrounded by light and sound, alone as the day they’ll die, but fooling themselves into thinking they have souls knitted to their own.
I wonder if any of them realize, other than at their lowest moments that for all our social tendencies, we are at heart solitary creatures. We are born alone, we die alone, and whether we believe it or not, whether we invite others into our homes and hearts, we live alone.
This is the moment where I must make my weakness seem like strength. My solitary exhaustion must seem like the solitude of a jaguar, hunting alone, portraying it’s great strength at the darkest time of the night.
I will straighten my spine, take a deep breath, wipe my eyes, and continue on tomorrow.
I will do it because the alternative is to stay cooped up in Las Vegas for another day. Because the alternative is lose momentum. Because the alternative to movement is stagnation.
But for now, I’m going to curl up and sleep. I’m going to forget for a few hours everything I’ve lost and maybe not have any nightmares. I hope wherever you are, you have at least that too.