Gila Bend, Arizona. Long day. Had a long talk last night about California. I had not been planning on going to California. Leigh’s parents live in Coronado, an island off San Diego. We haven’t been there since 1994. “I thought we were just going to do Colorado and New Mexico,” I say, really believing that was the agreement. “I said I wanted to see my parents,” Leigh answers. They had driven to our place this spring. “We just saw them in May.” “I want to see my mother’s new kitchen.” I think about this. There is no answer to a woman’s statement that she wants to add two extra days and drive across one third of the country because she wants to see her mother’s new kitchen. I’m sure every woman reading this understands, and not one male does. “Well, I have everything arranged at the office and everyone’s expecting me back on Monday.” (Today is Thursday.). “Terry is out with the heart surgery and Steve is handling the whole department alone.” We shop at a farmer’s market in the square. It’s pleasant, with Spanish architecture in the open square, craft and food vendors lining the walks, a Mexican band and lots of sun. We buy some exotic plants, a display of dried peppers and head to the car. We talk about California again. I really want to stay on the schedule I thought we were on, so we end the discussion and head to White Sands National Monument 40 miles north. It’s beautiful with miles of white sand that’s almost blinding in the intense New Mexico sun. We take a lot of pictures. I find a little white lizard and Leigh takes photos as he poses for her. I spend a half hour taking paper photos. I’d like to rewrite – and maybe I will – the book to incorporate all these scenes. Nathan calls while we’re touring the dunes. Everything is okay on his end. The dogs are fine. God, I miss them. I haven’t been away from Tyler more than a couple days since I got him. Or Zeus, for that matter. As we leave White Sands we talk again. I have never been so conflicted. Never. I do not want to go to Coronado. I don’t want to make the 800-mile drive. I don’t want to drive in San Diego. It’s too crowded and people drive too fast. I don’t want to take the extra time. If we were going to do it we should have done it two days ago. But I don’t regret any of the things we did or saw. At the same time, it means so much to Leigh to see her mother. Earlier, as we sat in the parking lot in Las Cruces and I said I didn’t want to go, she quietly took out the beads she’d bought for her mother and put them away. I could feel the sadness and disappointment. When I talked to Nathan he said she told him we weren’t going to Coronado. “She’s upset,” I said, walking up a dune in the hot breeze. “I heard more hurt,” he said. Damn. So, at the exit from White Sands, at 2 p.m. I turn right, to California. Leigh thanks me with the most heartfelt tone I’ve ever heard from her and I know it was the right decision. I push hard, going 85 mph and faster where I can. It’s desert all the way.
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