My husband and I were on a driving tour through the Southwest and on this particular day, we had stopped at a small convenience store to take a break and get a few supplies. It was early morning, but we had been driving for a couple of hours. And I had already downed two cups of coffee. After my much-needed trip to the bathroom, I gathered up a few things and left them with my husband. He would take a while, I knew, to choose his snacks. I needed to stretch my legs and let the dog out of the car for a little exercise.
The ‘pup’, as I affectionately called him, was a ten-year-old Bassett male who still had the energy of a one-year-old, which he seldom used. Today, however, he had been cooped up too long and he was ready to be out, sniffing out the sweet odors this new place might offer. When I opened the car door for him to get out, he bolted, practically pulling me off my feet.
“Fred!” I scolded. He immediately was contrite, but his curiosity was too strong, and he turned immediately to identifying all the enticing smells in the air and on the ground.
I wrapped the end of his leash around my hand and let him lead me onward, along the ‘pet area’ near the road. He finally settled down and allowed me to relax a bit. While he did what he was out here for, I took in the scenery.
On the surface, it was a desolate land, this place the Navajos call sacred. On closer inspection, I had to admit there was beauty here. The way the early morning sunlight, just peeking over the tops of the mesas, cast a golden glow over everything. The crimson of the giant landmarks turned fiery red. There was a freshness in the morning air that was clean and scented with something herbal. I didn’t know what, but it was pleasant. And it was quiet. I looked up and down the road. Not a vehicle in sight.
In the distance, a runner was out for an early morning jog. I watched as he got closer and realized it was, in fact, a woman. She was tall and thin and moved with the confidence of someone who knew what she was doing. She had on biker shorts and running shoes and a cap to shade her eyes, plus sunglasses. That did nothing to hide the fact that she was a blonde white woman.
My curiosity peaked as an old pickup approached her from behind. She, with the alertness of a runner, moved subtly to the side of the road and glanced over her shoulder. But she did not miss a stride.
As the pickup came upon her, it slowed, then matching her pace, stayed alongside her. I could see there were two men inside the truck. My danger radar switched on and I prepared for what might come next. She paid no attention to them. At first. Then she stopped and, breathing heavily, turned to them. She had earbuds in, and she reached to take them out.
Suddenly the passenger, who I could now see was an old Indian man, reached his arm out the window, and laid his hand gently on the top of her head. She did not seem alarmed. He rested his hand there for a moment, then muttered something. They had stopped only a few feet from me, but I could not hear the words over the sound of the engine of the truck. He said the words again as he looked intently into her eyes and softly patted her on the head and nodded. The truck pulled slowly away from her, creating only a tiny dust cloud. She had said not a word. But as she watched the truck speed away, a wide smile broke across her face, a face that I could now see was quite beautiful. Then she turned and began her run up the side road that led into the small village. I watched her go, knowing that I would never learn the answers to so many questions that were whirling about in my head.
Who was this woman, what was she doing here, how did she know the old man and why did he treat her with such respect? Over the years I would speculate but I would never know. But from time to time, I think of her.
My husband’s voice brought me out of my reverie. “Ready?” he called from the parking lot.
He had already started the car and the air conditioner was going full blast.
I looked at Fred. He was staring up at me with his baleful eyes as if to say he was finished with his business and was now ready for his bed in the back seat and another nap.
“Yes,” I called as my eyes swept this place, committing it to memory, knowing I would never be here again. “We’re ready.”
Have you ever had an experience that stays with you over time, that you may never have closure of, that perhaps ‘haunts’ you? This is one of mine.
