Tucson

In the window of time between my spring at Jubilee and the start of my bike ride, I decided to try out my brother's pilot benefits and fly standby to Tucson. And, lo and behold, it actually worked and I arrived here safe and sound on Friday evening after a few minor travel adventures. It is wonderful to see the desert again and the way it spreads out forever and ever amen with mountains popping up here and there like the most wonderful surprises. It is also so good to see my Tucson people again. I was greeted excitedly at the bus stop by my Tucson family and, later, by their happy yellow lab, Zoe. We surprised one of our good friends by showing up on her back porch. On a run yesterday morning I stopped to catch up with Scott, my former boss/mentor/friend, who happened to be outside planting barrel cacti in his front yard at 6:30am. Then, on the way back to the house, a hip stranger driving a mini van flashed a peace sign at me when I let him go first at a stop sign. Oh Tucson, it has been too long... I also had the chance to see former neighbors and friends while working with Mark & Sue on building a sun-shade on the side of their house and at a first birthday party for yet another little sweet one who seems to be growing like a string bean. It is good to be back again and there is much more to come. I tried to write a haiku about all of this, but with so few syllables, I'm afraid it only came out like this:

The full moon rises

over the Rincons – a sail

to move my dreaming.

That just really didn't really cut it for me, so I tried again and I think it might have come out a little better this time. :-) Here is how it looks this morning:

As I drove into the city, the full moon

rose over the Rincons like a sail – pulling

the soft and spreading city out behind it

like so many river rocks, or the hull of

a place I one knew or the way it feels

to come home and sleep beneath a

star-studded, hand-stitched quilt

in a bed you did not make. Sometimes

hope is working side-by-side in swirling

clouds of dust as the sun settles on

your shoulders like wool and your hands

grow tired together. At the end of the day

the rebar curved up like archways and

buttresses held together by curling

tendrils of wire and the hopeful, tiny

Queen’s Wreath, stood courageously,

waiting to climb. We ate heaping bowls

of homemade ice cream with oats and

flax seed meal sprinkled on top and talked

about the kinds of things you talk about

after a Saturday of work: muscles, bones,

the way you stand and walk after the world

has fallen on your back. The moon rose

again last night and cast a sparkling light

over the desert making everything seem

more significant. I showered outside and

felt the work of the day wash out to water

the peach tree in the yard – glowing, free.