Like a rock skipping across the water, I touch the 5, then 15, before the black night of the Mojave.
I'm driving the north edge of the San Gabriels. My beloved La Dona is just on the other side. I can see her lights, I can feel her energy, I'm brushing my fingers along her back, just a peck on the cheek when I dip into Los Angeles County near the 5.
But I can't bear to go south of this range. I can't dip into her streets and freeways. I'm not on the final stretch to home. I have hours more across the black star filled Mojave.
South of me is the valley and the 118, then La Cresenta, Pasadena and the north edge of the inland empire. I can't think of that last range, the Santa Monica's, because below them is my beloved Queen. Who has sent me away on an adventure I asked for.
I see the backside of Mt Baldy. I think of my friend up there in the lodge. I'm racing along Pearblossom highway. I'm thinking of Aldous Huxley and my brother and my dog. And another dog, that's at a shelter in a town I'll pass through - Apple Valley - but it's closed both times I pass and I take this as a sign this is not my dog. Or at least, not now.
I'm enjoying the quiet of my solo drive. I wanted to see how the desert I love so much, transforms into the Pacific. An ocean that feels unattainable due to high real estate prices and my inconsistent income. Desert landscape kept me company most of the way - Joshua Trees in bare landscape, but I watched the the grasses become thicker, the air cooler, and then a bursting fecund valley before a golden sun over the blue blue ocean. That ocean air, filled with moisture, a coolness. I missed it.
I've transitioned. From my desert Mojave hermitage, where I think and feel and experience from my singular self, to a fecund civilization. A lushness enabled by water; foods I've missed, friends and colleagues, even lush ideas. It's why I'm here in Santa Barbara - to see colleagues, work and have my brain stimulated (and fill my body with sushi that I miss so much). It works. I maintain my stamina of extroversion for three days until I crawl into my truck and find myself on the road back into the Mojave. And wake up in my Oasis.
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