January 21, 2023

Part 3:

It would rain on this night, though the sky said otherwise.Heavy metal signs bearing bold black, and yellow stripes are stacked by the roadside.They remain in place for the ready. I had seen the great swaths of sand, debris, and the entire uprooting of trees where the torrential force of waters had done their work. It was horrifying. Catastrophe was not in the cards for tonight. I breathed easily, prepared a quick meal to sustain myself, heated my water, bathed, and climbed into the back of my truck. It was close to nightfall when a convoy of desert ATV's climbed up over my hill. I am thankful they didn't catch me bathing.They crawled like insects over the hills, spitting rocks, dust, and noxious fumes from their undercarriage. At a distance, they looked like tiny matchbox dune buggies whirring away. Speed is not a part of the equation for fun here. If you slip, you flip.The passengers inside are head to toe in colorful, fancy matching gear covering every square inch of their bodies, particularly helmets and faceshields.The dust and wind is relentless.They are creeping around in cages with wheels.

Someone in the bunch politely takes the lead, and they retract from my safe space. I worry about the steep narrow road that carries me in and out of here as overuse may render it impassable.

It quiets.The lonesome moan of a train accompanied by the urgency of its engine echoes up through the canyon. The peaks are like cardboard cutouts illuminated by the stagelights soft glow. A sickle moon hangs like an ornament in the sky. On the third call of the trains, I am beckoned into sleep.

A cold rain ticks away on my roof come morning. I lay there for a long time, waiting for the wind to settle. The tarps are making a terrible racket. I raise my head and take note, pleased they are still intact. I am upright in the bed of this pickup with glass surrounding every side. I poke away at the keyboard until my fingers need warmth, then pause and tuck them under my thigh until they come to life again. My breath pours out in billowing clouds, reminding me of early mornings awaiting the school bus. Mature smokers that we were, my sisters and I held our invisible cigarettes and pursed our lips trying for smoke rings.

The new year was ushered in. I have made it into another year. Hurrah! I shove cynicism aside with concern of its hold on me. Challenges remain steadfast. Sickness, anger, futility and fear lead me to this place and I'm all in. There is no halfway with this kind of living. Halfway got left in Virginia on my death bed. Healing milestones rack up ever so slowly, more recently in the form of a soft pillow for my neck. How long had it been? Years! Oh for the joy of a pillow!

My breath disappears, the day moves forward. I climb out one leg and then the other, dash to the cab, and dress in my soiled clothes, as i would be sandblasted and damp on and off the whole day long. I light the stove, warm my hands, and a little while later I am sipping a hot cup of coffee, a pleasure and also a milestone for which I am ever so grateful.

The rains come and go. Catastrophic landslides and floods are overtaking mountains and homes here, but for the grace of God, I am privy to the joy of these desert wildflowers blooming in January. The sunny yellow of the creosote bush, the purple spears of lupines,the low lying deeper purples of the heliotropes and the glorious red flaming desert honeysuckle The hummingbirds flit about coming to call on these pallets of nectar while i marvel at the splendor of such vibrant life being born from the brown silty earth.

"What are you going to do?"A dear friend of mine posed. I knew this question was growing larger by the moment and then even more so by the day. The question encompassed a grander scale of thought that I had stopped allowing myself to peek into. I am in this unnamed place where my life before had come to a close, and the life ahead has not yet materialized. If I should step into that void of emptiness like I had done so many times, prior to knowing this was the only path to self preservation, why then I would fall back into that place where the only way out was death. Then, my work would be compounded by having to regain my footing. We have to live for this day only. All of you mold survivors know this because the spiral of hopelessness is real. The whole of us have been drawn into the back side of a fan and come out on the other side left with nothing but survival tactics. Zero frills. Gone are your talents to beautify, gone are the familiarities of home, gone are the tangible memories, gone are the fanciful clothes and jewelry and makeup, gone are the foods you so enjoyed, gone are your ties to your family and friends. Gone are every connection you ever had. When the world spits you out because you don't fit, you push toward the direction of getting better step by step, and one day, you must know your foot will land in a solid place where you will fit just fine. There is a different world for you waiting on the other side, and all of your curtailing of imaginings will unfold, all because cleaner breathing and clearer thinking have finally come back to you.They have come back to you because of your diligence and resilience and because you have stepped out of the box to save your own life. You rely on so many others for help because you could not do this alone. You need a village as apparent as it had been straight from the start. I thank you for being part of my village. Please donate if you are able.i am a broken record now, I know, but i still ask for your help. Last month brought such relief to me, I was able to carry on living without absolute fear. I am forever grateful and still continue to heal as i try to figure out how to navigate this life for myself.◇◇◇ Thank you all so much.♡♡♡

https://gofund.me/9b563122