"Fuck bars. I miss you..... and here I am, in a bar."
"Bars and I love you."
In the morning the fan is still whirring in the blue room where Tony and Ali are sleeping - the cat is pitching a fake mouse around the bedroom while one last errant cottonwood branch scrapes along the roof. Wind pushes the smell and sounds of grazing goats from outside, and I am awake.
The day brightens and grows and consumes eggs and bacon, coffee and laziness, learning to drive a manual on a long winding road. Aspens quake and shiver and glitter along the edge of the reservoir - sitting on the shore after escaping hungry bulldogs barking, dying to issue verbal warnings or maybe search the truck for purloined electrical spools.
The day brightens and grows and encompasses a quick goodbye and a kaleidescope of hectic radio traffic until the sun dips below the Watchman Cliffs and the waves are silent. Not even a crackle on the frequencies. Not even a whimper from the phones.
Blue sky on rosy sandstone and I feel like I am home.