Excerpt from Desert Son
Once the neurosurgeon strapped on his gear, preparing for last call action, Carter really wondered if he had unfinished business on the planet below. As far as he could see, he looked pretty dead, but figured the crew would stop trying when that was the case, letting him return to the clouds. But it looked very serious to Carter as he witnessed from the ceiling, but these days death proved difficult with new medicine and lawsuits. They were determined to save his life.
“I’m looking at the possibility of a brain injury here,” the neurosurgeon in charge belted out to the ICU team. “Low blood pressure. I need oxygen…gimme oxygen now. Intracranial pressure gotta come down or we’re gonna lose him. Look at the monitor. Look at…we’re losing him. Endotracial tube.”
Carter could hear the leader shouting orders to save his life, and he wanted to thank him and tell him it wasn’t necessary. After all, it was merely life on earth.
“EEG’s dyin’. Step it up…ventilator. I.V. Come on. He’s losing power…heart rate? Heart rate…heart rate!” the doctor screamed.
These workers ignored Carter, acting as if they were too busy to hear, he thought. He could only count the minutes, and his mind began to drift around his surroundings. Dust had collected upon the big operating light, but only Carter knew that. He thought of other neglected chores, while attempting to write his initials in the dust, but his fingers only passed through the lamp.
As Carter peered down upon the operating table once again, he discovered his eyes glued right down into the cleavage of one of the nurses. He broke his retinal connection, feeling ashamed even though he knew he could not be caught. Then he began thinking about how much power he really had over the other guys. Carter got lost for a bit, forgetting who he was and where he was and what was happening to him. He got lost in the valleys and needed rescuing, which came after he heard a very loud electricity charged explosion.
He slowly came to and instinctively scanned the room for the origin of the sound. He felt dazed, almost as if he was directly linked to that electrical charge. He was buzzing, but slowly returned to normal. He again rejoined the scene of watching himself on the operating table. He remembered the valleys, but he was also overcome with a feeling that he was coming unglued.
A flat tone that echoed throughout the room separated Carter’s
gawking from its target. He noticed the doctors and nurses shifting into higher gear. One of the doctors yelled, “Clear…clear,” then paddled Carter’s chest with enough energy to shock his body a foot off the table. The tone persisted, so the paddle returned, and this time Carter’s leap beat the first leap by a good three inches.
This time Carter felt the reunion. Magnetism gradually pealed him away from the ceiling, beyond his control and without his permission, pulling him back into his body, which jerked at the completion of the merger.
As the tone went haywire, Carter felt pain for the first time since the accident. From the perspective of the eye sockets of his shell, he stared idly at the ceiling that previously held his mirror image. Oh, the pain, he moaned. Never had his head hurt in such away. It made a hangover preferred. He began mumbling prayers indicating his wish to return to his last destination. He wouldn’t hurt up there.
Why did you have to paddle me that second time?” asked Carter aloud. “Things were so much better before.”
The doctors and nurses paused only long enough to exchange curious looks, but their job was to make sure that their patient remained in this world.
“And I think it’s high time ya dust up there,” Carter suggested.
The ICU crew continued their work, paying no mind to their patient’s comments out of nowhere, plenty used to such groundless banter in such a setting as the ICU.
Excerpt from Wayward Soul
They exited the freeway, and there was only one motel from which to choose, so they chose that one. There was a dimly lit neon marque with lights out on two of the letters, and another letter blinking. Vines grew up the pole and were entangled all the way to the sign, and there were more cracks in the old parking lot than there were at any Plumber’s convention. Let’s just say that it was a rundown piece of shit that maybe is a trucker’s paradise, or a lover’s hideaway.
They got out of the car and looked around. The weeds were trying desperately to break through the cracks in the parking lot. The motel was a long L shape that was one story on a slab. It had a filthy appearance, and there were not many lights on in the rooms. Only six cars occupied the parking lot, and that probably included employees. The septic aroma was the icing on the cake.
“Should we move on?” Brenda asked.
“We can’t move on, Brenda. We could be driving for miles before we find something else, and we don’t know where we are. It’s too risky, and neither of us is in any shape to persevere. Too tired. Too dangerous…no way. Sorry.”
Brenda glanced at the wreck before them one more time. “I guess this is where we’ll call home for the day.” She made a face, and then started walking to the office, followed by Carter. When they reached the office, Carter opened the screen door toward him and it produced a loud screech. He turned and looked at Brenda, then proceeded into the office and was met with an empty front desk. He saw a bell on the counter, and decided to press it after about a minute.
“Hold on…hold on!” The gravely male voice sounded annoyed as if people were ringing his bell all day. He passed through the doorway that was made up of hanging beads strung together. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties, bald, except for whisks of hair on either side of his brains. Both of his hips appeared to be shot because of the way he rocked back and forth just to produce a forward motion. His right eye was not good in any way, shape or form. Carter did not know where to look and felt uncomfortable trying to figure it out. He just looked between the two of them, but no matter what he did, he still returned to that eye. It was foggy, perhaps glass, but it seemed as if the man popped it in himself to save a couple of bucks. It just looked wrong, like a bad rug. Carter did his best to pretend not to notice, but still felt as if the guy knew he was looking at it.
“Whagan I do you fer,” the motel man asked.
“We’d just like a room for the night,” Carter replied.
“Fer the night or fer the day?”
“Well, we’ve just been traveling all night so we figured we would…”
“Fer the night or fer the day?”
“I was just explaining that we probably…”
“Can you just tell me fer the night or fer the day?”
“Fine…fer the day, but if we…”
“Fifty dollars…cash only.”
Carter looked back at Brenda. She had a smirk on her face as she was enjoying this a little more than Carter. She actually had to cover her face with her hand and turn completely around before the gruff old motel man banned them from staying there. Carter was getting irritated, and turned to the motel man and said, “Excuse me, kind sir…do you accept American money?”
“Sure do,” the motel man replied. Washington, Lincoln, and whoever the other guys are on the bigger bills.” He rested his weight on the counter as he held his rounded body up with his hands. He accepted a fifty dollar bill from Carter, banged a button on the register, and tucked it safely away. “Here’s the key, and out by midnight.”
“Midnight? We have been travelling all night and may…”
“I asked fer the night or fer the day…and you answered fer the day. What part of that question gave you the most trouble?”
Now Carter was pissed. No wonder there were no cars in the parking lot, he thought. He glared at the man. Yes, he looked him straight in that eye, and said nothing at first, but the guy didn’t even flinch.
“Come on Carter,” said Brenda beside him. “That is clearly the guy’s personality. He doesn’t know any better.” She said this loud enough for the motel man to hear.
Carter took the key from the him, and they turned and walked away. He couldn’t fix the guy, and anything he said would have done nothing but force them back onto the road in search of another seedy place to lay their heads. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it until their departure. That’s when Carter figured he’d get his retribution. That was it. Carter wasn’t one to let this type of behavior go, and he was shocked that Brenda insisted that he let it go, and actually was amused by it. Maybe she was just overtired. They grabbed the key and walked to their room. Out of all the motel rooms in that L-shaped layout, their room was right next to what appeared to be the only other room that was occupied.
As they hauled their suitcases to the dumpy motel room, they opened the door and a stuffy, moldy aroma invaded their nostrils. A small, square room with a queen-sized bed awaited them. Carter knew immediately that Brenda would be bumping his feet; they would be protruding from the end of the bed. The bed was short, much shorter than his queen at home, and she still knocked his toes every time she went by. The TV was about 20 inches with a large back, and sat atop a small, dark brown chest of drawers. The bathroom was right next to the dresser, and there were insects taking a bath in the small puddle of water left behind from the previous guests.
“This’ll have to do,” said Brenda.
“Yup…until midnight, anyway, and with no showering,” Carter replied.
Brenda made a face and shivered. They got into their night clothes after ruling out a bath, and crawled onto the soft box of a bed. There was nothing comfortable about it.
“I’ve slept on a softer bed when I camped out in a tent on the ground,” said Carter, amused.
“We’ll be out of here by midnight,” Brenda replied, “That’s for damn sure.”
Brenda kissed Carter goodnight and rolled onto her side, and very nearly rolled off the bed. They tried to carve out niches in the mattress, but some things weren’t meant to be. They finally got still, and then heard some movement on the other side of the wall from where their heads rested. Then they heard a woman’s voice. Then they heard a woman moaning. The moaning got louder and louder, culminating in a loud scream. The beds needed better shock absorbers. It was a short disruption, but then there was silence.
Within five minutes, they could hear a door shut and two cars start outside their door. Once the automobile roars faded into the distance, there wasn’t a noise to be heard.
Brenda chuckled. “Goodnight Jim Bob.”
“Good night Grandma.”
Excerpt from Spiritual Intervention
A sharp, but dull bang jolted Carter’s eyes open, and he thought for a moment about whether or not there really was a noise. He continued to lie in bed next to his wife, Brenda, who softly snored beside him. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he saw that it was 5:42 a.m., but darkness still consumed the world around him. He heard nothing more, so his eyes gently shut. He opened his eyes a second time. The first time he opened them for his wife, Brenda. The second time was for his six-year-old son, Adam.
There was no strong reason for concern. In fact, Carter may have heard nothing at all. Perhaps he was startled by a dream. You can never be too cautious was the motto he chose to live by. He gently lifted the covers off his shoulders and slid his legs out to the floor, which was chilly against his bare feet on this cool April morning.
There was no reason to alarm Brenda at this time. He slowly tiptoed away from the bed with his hands out in front of him, trying not to bump into anything. As he made his way into the hallway, he noticed that Adam’s bedroom door was ajar, and they always closed their son’s door after putting him to bed at night.
Suddenly, there was a sense of urgency within Carter as he briskly walked down the hallway to Adam’s bedroom, which was separated by his own bedroom by a single wall. When he looked in, he saw covers over his son, and breathed a sigh of relief. The urgency that quickly consumed him for that short walk down the hallway subsided just as swiftly as its onset.
He flipped the light switch on and smiled as he strolled over to his son’s bed to tuck him in. However, he noticed that his son’s bedroom window had been opened and the screen was up. This was odd because he would not get any more air with the screen raised. Carter’s eyes then jolted open wide and he jerked his head to his son’s bed and saw nothing more than a crumpled blanket. Adam was not in his bed.
It was still too soon to wake Brenda. Adam was probably in the bathroom. Carter moved out of the bedroom, but the whole house was dark as Adam’s room was the only one with lights on. Adam was not in the bathroom as he had assumed. Carter then whipped through the two-story house room by room, flicking on the lights and quickly checking every spot. Each time he cleared a room, his adrenaline would rise.
Carter returned to his bedroom to make sure that Adam had not been in there the whole time or even slipped in after he left. He even checked the closet, and the door made a creaking noise when he opened it, prompting Brenda to ask, “Honey, what are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “Just go back to sleep. Everything’s fine.”
Brenda sat up quickly in bed. She knew that whenever Carter said that everything was fine, it was not fine. “What’s going on, Carter? What’s wrong?” She jumped out of bed and met him at the closet.
“I’m just…Adam’s not in his bed. I don’t know…”
“What?” Brenda turned in a panic and ran down the hallway and into his room. “Oh…oh…Adam? Adam honey, where are you? Adam? This isn’t a joke. Where are you?” Brenda was frantically screaming out to her son and hyperventilating.
Excerpt from Strapped Into An American Dream
After the pressure of trying to see it all in Grand Teton and Yellowstone, we now noticed a great weight lifted. Rolling into Gardiner equated rolling into a soothing, relaxed, and gentle atmosphere. It saved us from that affliction called tourism. This was a dramatic change, like when you come into a house on a cold and snowy winter's day, then slam the door, and sound of the howling wind is transformed into silence. We savored the moment then melted with the swift river nearby, which became our music as we slept.
What I discovered when I awoke put me in awe, and it was what we had set off to find last May. Being the first one up just as the light of this new day began to enter the valley, I pulled the back shade to find our camper in a low valley surrounded by towering mountains of rock. Crumbled pieces were piled at every level, and a half moon still maintained its presence in the sky. The Yellowstone River still rushed past as it had while we had drifted off to sleep the night before. Infrequent echoes from passing motorists came and went. I could hear the sound of their motors trail off then dissolve into the horizon.
My mood was instantly transcended into an inner peace that crept into my body, taking it hostage. I enjoyed this peacefulness, this lonesomeness. I inhaled deeply and exhaled gently, feeling more alive than ever.
Needing to take in the entire picture, I strolled to the Yellowstone River about ten seconds away. The soothing water, swirling and twisting its way along the narrow river of protruding rocks and past the banks containing it, constantly provided the tune we so cherished. Standing small, admiring the scenery before me, I searched for wildlife, but saw none. That didn't matter, though, because life prospered all around, and to me it was wild.
Sometimes we simply could not pick up and leave a place, and Gardiner qualified as such a place. We needed another night to fully appreciate its offering, and we had only seen a couple miles of Montana. We wanted stability for a full twenty-four hours, and what better place than where we were? A plane or an automobile would be our only infrequent disturbance, so we agreed to use this area as a stopover.
“I’m looking at the possibility of a brain injury here,” the neurosurgeon in charge belted out to the ICU team. “Low blood pressure. I need oxygen…gimme oxygen now. Intracranial pressure gotta come down or we’re gonna lose him. Look at the monitor. Look at…we’re losing him. Endotracial tube.”
Carter could hear the leader shouting orders to save his life, and he wanted to thank him and tell him it wasn’t necessary. After all, it was merely life on earth.
“EEG’s dyin’. Step it up…ventilator. I.V. Come on. He’s losing power…heart rate? Heart rate…heart rate!” the doctor screamed.
These workers ignored Carter, acting as if they were too busy to hear, he thought. He could only count the minutes, and his mind began to drift around his surroundings. Dust had collected upon the big operating light, but only Carter knew that. He thought of other neglected chores, while attempting to write his initials in the dust, but his fingers only passed through the lamp.
As Carter peered down upon the operating table once again, he discovered his eyes glued right down into the cleavage of one of the nurses. He broke his retinal connection, feeling ashamed even though he knew he could not be caught. Then he began thinking about how much power he really had over the other guys. Carter got lost for a bit, forgetting who he was and where he was and what was happening to him. He got lost in the valleys and needed rescuing, which came after he heard a very loud electricity charged explosion.
He slowly came to and instinctively scanned the room for the origin of the sound. He felt dazed, almost as if he was directly linked to that electrical charge. He was buzzing, but slowly returned to normal. He again rejoined the scene of watching himself on the operating table. He remembered the valleys, but he was also overcome with a feeling that he was coming unglued.
A flat tone that echoed throughout the room separated Carter’s
gawking from its target. He noticed the doctors and nurses shifting into higher gear. One of the doctors yelled, “Clear…clear,” then paddled Carter’s chest with enough energy to shock his body a foot off the table. The tone persisted, so the paddle returned, and this time Carter’s leap beat the first leap by a good three inches.
This time Carter felt the reunion. Magnetism gradually pealed him away from the ceiling, beyond his control and without his permission, pulling him back into his body, which jerked at the completion of the merger.
As the tone went haywire, Carter felt pain for the first time since the accident. From the perspective of the eye sockets of his shell, he stared idly at the ceiling that previously held his mirror image. Oh, the pain, he moaned. Never had his head hurt in such away. It made a hangover preferred. He began mumbling prayers indicating his wish to return to his last destination. He wouldn’t hurt up there.
Why did you have to paddle me that second time?” asked Carter aloud. “Things were so much better before.”
The doctors and nurses paused only long enough to exchange curious looks, but their job was to make sure that their patient remained in this world.
“And I think it’s high time ya dust up there,” Carter suggested.
The ICU crew continued their work, paying no mind to their patient’s comments out of nowhere, plenty used to such groundless banter in such a setting as the ICU.
Excerpt from Wayward Soul
They exited the freeway, and there was only one motel from which to choose, so they chose that one. There was a dimly lit neon marque with lights out on two of the letters, and another letter blinking. Vines grew up the pole and were entangled all the way to the sign, and there were more cracks in the old parking lot than there were at any Plumber’s convention. Let’s just say that it was a rundown piece of shit that maybe is a trucker’s paradise, or a lover’s hideaway.
They got out of the car and looked around. The weeds were trying desperately to break through the cracks in the parking lot. The motel was a long L shape that was one story on a slab. It had a filthy appearance, and there were not many lights on in the rooms. Only six cars occupied the parking lot, and that probably included employees. The septic aroma was the icing on the cake.
“Should we move on?” Brenda asked.
“We can’t move on, Brenda. We could be driving for miles before we find something else, and we don’t know where we are. It’s too risky, and neither of us is in any shape to persevere. Too tired. Too dangerous…no way. Sorry.”
Brenda glanced at the wreck before them one more time. “I guess this is where we’ll call home for the day.” She made a face, and then started walking to the office, followed by Carter. When they reached the office, Carter opened the screen door toward him and it produced a loud screech. He turned and looked at Brenda, then proceeded into the office and was met with an empty front desk. He saw a bell on the counter, and decided to press it after about a minute.
“Hold on…hold on!” The gravely male voice sounded annoyed as if people were ringing his bell all day. He passed through the doorway that was made up of hanging beads strung together. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties, bald, except for whisks of hair on either side of his brains. Both of his hips appeared to be shot because of the way he rocked back and forth just to produce a forward motion. His right eye was not good in any way, shape or form. Carter did not know where to look and felt uncomfortable trying to figure it out. He just looked between the two of them, but no matter what he did, he still returned to that eye. It was foggy, perhaps glass, but it seemed as if the man popped it in himself to save a couple of bucks. It just looked wrong, like a bad rug. Carter did his best to pretend not to notice, but still felt as if the guy knew he was looking at it.
“Whagan I do you fer,” the motel man asked.
“We’d just like a room for the night,” Carter replied.
“Fer the night or fer the day?”
“Well, we’ve just been traveling all night so we figured we would…”
“Fer the night or fer the day?”
“I was just explaining that we probably…”
“Can you just tell me fer the night or fer the day?”
“Fine…fer the day, but if we…”
“Fifty dollars…cash only.”
Carter looked back at Brenda. She had a smirk on her face as she was enjoying this a little more than Carter. She actually had to cover her face with her hand and turn completely around before the gruff old motel man banned them from staying there. Carter was getting irritated, and turned to the motel man and said, “Excuse me, kind sir…do you accept American money?”
“Sure do,” the motel man replied. Washington, Lincoln, and whoever the other guys are on the bigger bills.” He rested his weight on the counter as he held his rounded body up with his hands. He accepted a fifty dollar bill from Carter, banged a button on the register, and tucked it safely away. “Here’s the key, and out by midnight.”
“Midnight? We have been travelling all night and may…”
“I asked fer the night or fer the day…and you answered fer the day. What part of that question gave you the most trouble?”
Now Carter was pissed. No wonder there were no cars in the parking lot, he thought. He glared at the man. Yes, he looked him straight in that eye, and said nothing at first, but the guy didn’t even flinch.
“Come on Carter,” said Brenda beside him. “That is clearly the guy’s personality. He doesn’t know any better.” She said this loud enough for the motel man to hear.
Carter took the key from the him, and they turned and walked away. He couldn’t fix the guy, and anything he said would have done nothing but force them back onto the road in search of another seedy place to lay their heads. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it until their departure. That’s when Carter figured he’d get his retribution. That was it. Carter wasn’t one to let this type of behavior go, and he was shocked that Brenda insisted that he let it go, and actually was amused by it. Maybe she was just overtired. They grabbed the key and walked to their room. Out of all the motel rooms in that L-shaped layout, their room was right next to what appeared to be the only other room that was occupied.
As they hauled their suitcases to the dumpy motel room, they opened the door and a stuffy, moldy aroma invaded their nostrils. A small, square room with a queen-sized bed awaited them. Carter knew immediately that Brenda would be bumping his feet; they would be protruding from the end of the bed. The bed was short, much shorter than his queen at home, and she still knocked his toes every time she went by. The TV was about 20 inches with a large back, and sat atop a small, dark brown chest of drawers. The bathroom was right next to the dresser, and there were insects taking a bath in the small puddle of water left behind from the previous guests.
“This’ll have to do,” said Brenda.
“Yup…until midnight, anyway, and with no showering,” Carter replied.
Brenda made a face and shivered. They got into their night clothes after ruling out a bath, and crawled onto the soft box of a bed. There was nothing comfortable about it.
“I’ve slept on a softer bed when I camped out in a tent on the ground,” said Carter, amused.
“We’ll be out of here by midnight,” Brenda replied, “That’s for damn sure.”
Brenda kissed Carter goodnight and rolled onto her side, and very nearly rolled off the bed. They tried to carve out niches in the mattress, but some things weren’t meant to be. They finally got still, and then heard some movement on the other side of the wall from where their heads rested. Then they heard a woman’s voice. Then they heard a woman moaning. The moaning got louder and louder, culminating in a loud scream. The beds needed better shock absorbers. It was a short disruption, but then there was silence.
Within five minutes, they could hear a door shut and two cars start outside their door. Once the automobile roars faded into the distance, there wasn’t a noise to be heard.
Brenda chuckled. “Goodnight Jim Bob.”
“Good night Grandma.”
Excerpt from Spiritual Intervention
A sharp, but dull bang jolted Carter’s eyes open, and he thought for a moment about whether or not there really was a noise. He continued to lie in bed next to his wife, Brenda, who softly snored beside him. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he saw that it was 5:42 a.m., but darkness still consumed the world around him. He heard nothing more, so his eyes gently shut. He opened his eyes a second time. The first time he opened them for his wife, Brenda. The second time was for his six-year-old son, Adam.
There was no strong reason for concern. In fact, Carter may have heard nothing at all. Perhaps he was startled by a dream. You can never be too cautious was the motto he chose to live by. He gently lifted the covers off his shoulders and slid his legs out to the floor, which was chilly against his bare feet on this cool April morning.
There was no reason to alarm Brenda at this time. He slowly tiptoed away from the bed with his hands out in front of him, trying not to bump into anything. As he made his way into the hallway, he noticed that Adam’s bedroom door was ajar, and they always closed their son’s door after putting him to bed at night.
Suddenly, there was a sense of urgency within Carter as he briskly walked down the hallway to Adam’s bedroom, which was separated by his own bedroom by a single wall. When he looked in, he saw covers over his son, and breathed a sigh of relief. The urgency that quickly consumed him for that short walk down the hallway subsided just as swiftly as its onset.
He flipped the light switch on and smiled as he strolled over to his son’s bed to tuck him in. However, he noticed that his son’s bedroom window had been opened and the screen was up. This was odd because he would not get any more air with the screen raised. Carter’s eyes then jolted open wide and he jerked his head to his son’s bed and saw nothing more than a crumpled blanket. Adam was not in his bed.
It was still too soon to wake Brenda. Adam was probably in the bathroom. Carter moved out of the bedroom, but the whole house was dark as Adam’s room was the only one with lights on. Adam was not in the bathroom as he had assumed. Carter then whipped through the two-story house room by room, flicking on the lights and quickly checking every spot. Each time he cleared a room, his adrenaline would rise.
Carter returned to his bedroom to make sure that Adam had not been in there the whole time or even slipped in after he left. He even checked the closet, and the door made a creaking noise when he opened it, prompting Brenda to ask, “Honey, what are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “Just go back to sleep. Everything’s fine.”
Brenda sat up quickly in bed. She knew that whenever Carter said that everything was fine, it was not fine. “What’s going on, Carter? What’s wrong?” She jumped out of bed and met him at the closet.
“I’m just…Adam’s not in his bed. I don’t know…”
“What?” Brenda turned in a panic and ran down the hallway and into his room. “Oh…oh…Adam? Adam honey, where are you? Adam? This isn’t a joke. Where are you?” Brenda was frantically screaming out to her son and hyperventilating.
Excerpt from Strapped Into An American Dream
After the pressure of trying to see it all in Grand Teton and Yellowstone, we now noticed a great weight lifted. Rolling into Gardiner equated rolling into a soothing, relaxed, and gentle atmosphere. It saved us from that affliction called tourism. This was a dramatic change, like when you come into a house on a cold and snowy winter's day, then slam the door, and sound of the howling wind is transformed into silence. We savored the moment then melted with the swift river nearby, which became our music as we slept.
What I discovered when I awoke put me in awe, and it was what we had set off to find last May. Being the first one up just as the light of this new day began to enter the valley, I pulled the back shade to find our camper in a low valley surrounded by towering mountains of rock. Crumbled pieces were piled at every level, and a half moon still maintained its presence in the sky. The Yellowstone River still rushed past as it had while we had drifted off to sleep the night before. Infrequent echoes from passing motorists came and went. I could hear the sound of their motors trail off then dissolve into the horizon.
My mood was instantly transcended into an inner peace that crept into my body, taking it hostage. I enjoyed this peacefulness, this lonesomeness. I inhaled deeply and exhaled gently, feeling more alive than ever.
Needing to take in the entire picture, I strolled to the Yellowstone River about ten seconds away. The soothing water, swirling and twisting its way along the narrow river of protruding rocks and past the banks containing it, constantly provided the tune we so cherished. Standing small, admiring the scenery before me, I searched for wildlife, but saw none. That didn't matter, though, because life prospered all around, and to me it was wild.
Sometimes we simply could not pick up and leave a place, and Gardiner qualified as such a place. We needed another night to fully appreciate its offering, and we had only seen a couple miles of Montana. We wanted stability for a full twenty-four hours, and what better place than where we were? A plane or an automobile would be our only infrequent disturbance, so we agreed to use this area as a stopover.
