The Space Between

It is warm like springtime this morning. I am perched on top of those white rocks watching a very strange fog blanket the space between the Chuzco's and the sleeping Ute and our little kitchen spot. I love any vantage from which I can see our multitude of mountains, and rise bout the daily grind of juniper and sage canyons for more of the big picture. The breeze on my neck and thesun on my cheeks makes me think of very early February on our lake ages ago, when the trees are tricked into releasing their golden haze by an early thaw.

I slept last night with my head poking out form under my shelter and watched the stars go by for a good long time. I saw the moon rise over these rocks and the whole plateau go instinctively iridescent. I saw Orion nearly make his full migration across the sky, and Sirius rise and set. I think tonight I just might sleep next to the shelter entirely, and enjoy a full night and morning of big open sky.

Maybe its just the force of suggestion and the power of my imagination but I just inhaled ocean and my nose bristled with the exhale of salt and brine. My spine tingles from base to crown with the sensation, and my soul is somehow instantly about a thousand miles away.

I am currently daydreaming about my time off and all the logistical and emotional turmoil that I forsee ensuing. I had the thought earlier that it might be kind of a lot and intesne to fly back to Albuquerque, do three days straight of WFR, drive back the four hours Monday night, and go out to work immediately Tuesday morning. I'm not sure when WFR is supposed to finish Monday, but even if it is on the earlier end, it still kind of seems like a lot to accomplish. I am daydreaming about taking that first week back in town off as well, then pulling a double--starting out on Sky and coming off on Open, then staying on Open for the time being. I sort of fear another double, and the week recovery more than anything, but working straight through after being gone seems like bad news for my personal and professional stability. The double also seems like the best of both worlds, schedule wise, get a break on both ends, work the same amount money wise, get to hang with both staffs, get to end up on Open in the end, and maybe end up crossing paths with Jack in the process.

I feel again, looking out, that if I don't let my gaze settle for too long in any one spot this place mimics my home mountains. The scraggliness and absence of underbrush makes me think of those first October backpack adventures, high on ridge lines long after the leaves have blown down in the first fall thunderstorms. I wonder sometimes hoe this water girl can feel so much nostalgia and longing wrapped in the desert so far from moving water.