Now my family’s all back at the hotel, resting, since no one got any sleep last night. I’m going to try to nap, so that tonight I can go out on the hotel porch and look for more shooting stars. If I see one, I know what I’ll wish for.
Another night in Santa Fe, even though we were supposed to get back on the train today to head toward the Grand Canyon. Gavin and Mom were on the phone for a while, and Mom kept saying “I know we can leave if we want to. We don’t want to. Not yet anyway. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”
Finally Gavin said thank you and that since we were staying, he’d be bringing Travis back to the inn for the night. He and Miss Ruby were going to stay close. In case.
I can’t quite put a name on what I feel right now. Dread is part of it. Dread of the “in case,” which I know is in case Miss Georgia dies. But I also feel…I don’t know. Weightless? Like I don’t really have roots or an anchor? I feel like those tumbleweed plants that roll for miles and miles across the desert because there’s nothing to hold them in place. And weirdly, I also feel guilty, not like it’s my fault that Miss Georgia’s in the hospital, but like…our family is still together, still healthy, still heading off to the Grand Canyon and on to California, and Travis’s whole world is turned upside down. It’s not fair. (And I know, I know…life’s not fair! I don’t even need Laurel to tell me that!)
For now we’re hanging around Santa Fe. Tomorrow Ladybug wants to go back to the bug museum, and Mimi said she’d bring her. Maybe I’ll go along. Take a few photos of Bruce and the bugs. Ladybug would love that. And honestly? I don’t know what else to do.
We’re back on the train, heading to Williams, Arizona, where we’ll spend the night before heading out in the morning for the Grand Canyon. We stayed two extra days in Santa Fe, but nothing changed with Miss Georgia, and finally Mom and Mimi decided we had to keep going. Saying goodbye to Gavin and Travis and Miss Ruby was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I mean, we might see them in a few days, but…we might not.
We might never see them again.
Gavin promised to call when things change, which, if I’m being honest, means when Miss Georgia dies. Because she’s dying. Right now. The doctors say there’s nothing more to be done, and that since she refused “extraordinary measures” to keep her alive, like feeding tubes and stuff, it’s just a matter of time.
She’s alive now, but soon she won’t be. And with all the science and computer stuff, with all the shooting stars and giant Elvis cutouts, with all the fierce love that Travis and Miss Ruby are throwing at her…even with all of that, nothing’s going to make a difference.
It’s almost sunset, and the sky over the desert is crazy beautiful—all ultra-bright orange and hot pink and even purple in wiggles and zigzags across the sky. It’s ridiculously gorgeous…the kind of thing you’d see on a poster or something. And it’s right outside the window, flying by us as we whip along the mesas and canyons. We just had dinner in the dining car, and it’s fancy here, with flowers on the table and cloth napkins. And I never would have thought I’d write this, but with only the six of us it seemed…quiet. I’m sure people were still staring….Laurel got a tortilla stuck under her tongue stud and had to remove it, and Mimi decided it was a good night to sing “Johnny Appleseed,” a kind of grace-type prayer before the meal that has lots of clapping, because she thought we needed cheering up.
But without Miss Georgia and Miss Ruby fighting over the bread basket, and Travis TEEHEEHEEHEEing at everything, and Gavin and Mom talking some kind of random legal patent stuff…well, yeah. It feels too quiet. Funny how fast things can change, then change again.
We’re at the hotel in Williams, and there was a message waiting for us. I guess Mom and Mimi’s phones didn’t get a signal on the train. Miss Georgia never woke up. She died this afternoon, just a few hours after we left. She’s gone.
LIFE IN THE GREEN LANE
THE GRAND CANYON: Land of literal and cultural vertigo! Look one way, and there are hundreds and hundreds of tourists, each holding up a camera, a phone, or both, some sporting sweatshirts with questionable political values, some clearly from other nations. Some of them step off their tour buses into the oven-like heat (think hair dryer set on high blowing straight at you), take a photo, and then climb right back into the air-conditioning. Look the other way and…gods and goddesses, heroes and mortals all fall on their knees in amazement! Blazing red rock, endless ripples and rows of cliffs extending into the distance, a drop thousands of feet to green-blue river water below….It is beauty so wild and enormous, it slaps you across the face.
It’s easy to trash the Grand Canyon as a cliché: mobbed with tourists and souvenir stands. But that’s too easy. Because the glory of this spot can’t be ignored, and this is our country, in all its outrageous beauty.
Nothing’s quite as simple and obvious as it seems. Are these horrible tourist buses despoiling the earth? What if these tourists go home, touched by what they’ve seen, and pledge to make the natural world a little safer, keep it a little cleaner?
There’s a special Grand Canyon train that brings people here, with an old-fashioned steam engine and people dressed in costumes talking about the history of the land. As our train approached the Grand Canyon, a fiddler and guitar player (both hired by the train to provide “authentic Western music”) played in the observation car. And again, it would have been easy to roll my eyes and sigh that once again crass commercialism was taking over. But then they played the old folk song “This Land Is Your Land.”
You know the one:
This land is your land
This land is my land
From California to the New York island
From the redwood forests to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me
And as they played, people joined in. Americans of course who know this song from their summer camps or Boy Scout jamborees, but also Japanese, French, and Argentinian tourists who, somehow, knew the words. As we sang, I looked over at Root, and tears were streaming down his face. Out the window the landscape flew by, more intense by the minute. Inside, human beings from all around this crazy planet shared their amazement at the sight, and sang.
Peace, Laurel
Fun Fact!
The Grand Canyon is 277 miles long, 18 miles wide at the widest point, and 6,000 feet deep at the deepest point.
Fun Fact!
The Grand Canyon is over six million years old, though newer controversial studies suggest that this estimate may be off by more than sixty million years, and that the canyon may have formed over 70 million years ago. (Okay, that is a heck of a miss. I mean…sure, it’s old and all, and I could see being off by a few thousand years. But 70 million? I feel better about my last math test.)
Not-So-Fun Fact!
Of the 4.5 million people who visit the Grand Canyon each year, around twelve people die here. Deaths are from natural causes, medical issues, suicide, drowning, and traffic crashes. Usually two or three deaths per year are from falls into the canyon.
Well, we’re finally here, and without the NTFs. The Grand Canyon was the place Miss Georgia was most excited to see. On the train she kept saying she’d wanted to see it her whole life, and now she was on her way, thanks to her best friend, the most wonderful person in the world. And Miss Ruby would always say it would be a darn shame if someone knocked Miss Georgia right into the canyon for being such a fool, and Miss Georgia would say that she’d grab hold and drag Miss Ruby down with her, and they’d laugh and laugh.
Funny how a few weeks ago I would have been so relieved to get rid of them. And now all I can think about is how Miss Georgia and Miss Ruby would have loved posing Elvis on the Skywalk, and how Travis would have been all fired up to see the view. It’s still amazing, of course. I mean, how could it not be? As Laurel said, after we got off the train and stared for a few minutes, barely able to talk, “Well, now I get what all the fuss is about.”
And I know what she means. Of course I’
ve heard about the Grand Canyon, and seen photos. But I had no idea.
How can I describe it?
Well, if I were doing a writing exercise and needed to put in as many details as possible, I guess I’d describe the swoops and spikes of the rock walls, the way they’re all striped in these even horizontal designs of red and brown and orange that almost look painted on. There are so many layers of cliffs and rocks that they go on and on and on to this incredibly faraway horizon, like some kind of exercise in depth perception. And the farther away these cliffs are, the more the colors change, from orange and red and brown to pink and purple and gray. And the sky is a deep dark blue—somehow way more blue than an everyday blue sky at home.
But I’m not sure how well this really describes it. Mostly I want to stare. I can barely make myself blink. We’re spending two nights in a lodge right by the rim of the canyon. Even when we’re inside, the view is there, demanding that we keep looking. Ladybug just said, “Mom, close the curtains. The Grand Canyon is staring at me.”
And she’s right. I can barely read my book—it’s too hard to concentrate.
I can’t help wondering how Travis and Miss Ruby and Gavin are doing. Or where they are. Last Mimi heard from them, they were trying to make decisions about “the remains” and figuring what to do next…whether to return home to Texas or keep going to California.
Ugh. Miss Georgia should not be “remains”—I hate that.
TO: EmilyGirl
FROM: SaraJF
SUBJECT: Re: Hellooo?
Hey, Em—
Sorry it’s taken so long to write back. I did get your email when we were in Santa Fe, but things got a little hectic. Remember the two old women who were part of our train travel group? Well, one of them was really sick and had to go to the hospital a few days ago, while we were still in Santa Fe. And we just found out she died. It feels so awful, Em, and I didn’t even know her that well. I can’t help thinking about Travis, who must be heartbroken. Anyway, would you believe I miss them? Wouldn’t have thought so, but I do.
I’m attaching the photos we took of the Grand Canyon at sunset. I know it looks like some picture off a calendar in the science room, but IT ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE THAT. No, seriously, this place is amazing. It doesn’t even seem real. It’s so gorgeous, it’s hard to do anything but stare, swiveling my head around. (Not all the way around like an owl. Not that owls can actually spin their heads all the way. It only looks that way. ANYWAY.)
Thanks for sending pics of your hair….It looks So. Good! Never knew pink could look so fierce! Is Vi still being a wimp? I totally wouldn’t have thought she’d be the scaredy-cat. And you and Vi are insane, by the way. I do NOT look like a model with my short hair and scarf. I look like someone who’s trying to hide the fact that her ear is still pale blue! Honestly, at this point I’m hoping it’ll be gone by school.
But in answer to your question, I haven’t really looked at my Reinvention Project list in a while. I’ve read a bunch of nonfiction, and have been doing yoga most mornings…though I’m not sure I’ve developed much calm or mindfulness. But I can touch my toes, so that’s something.
Anyway, I miss you so, so much. It seems like a million years since we were hanging out together. I can’t wait to see you guys. But in a weird way I don’t want the trip to end. Strange, I know.
XOXOX Sara
P.S. I’m giving up on “Rae.” The only person who remembered to call me that was Travis, and honestly, it felt stupid. If I ever see him again, I’ll tell him to call me Sara.
Mimi got an email from Gavin saying they’re coming to the Grand Canyon tomorrow. Apparently Miss Georgia had made it her dying wish that they continue the trip…with Elvis.
I’m really glad. It’s been weird being here without them. And I totally wished Travis had been there today. I saw someone who—for real—could have been Rupert Presley, Elvis’s long-lost herpetologist brother. Velour jumpsuit, snake tattoo, and big sunglasses. Oh, and sideburns. I tried to get a picture, but let’s just say Ladybug’s explosive reaction to the mule distracted me.
Whew…it gets seriously hot here. We’re inside now, taking our siesta, which really just means getting the heck out of that blazing sun for a little while. Poor Root…he dropped his huge hat and it blew away, and now he’s kind of a blotchy pink-and-red. Laurel’s trying to convince him that her organic sunscreen isn’t going to hurt him, but he’s not buying it.
Meanwhile I spent the whole day with Travis. I saw him as soon as I got up—we were actually the only two at the breakfast table. By the time I got down there, everyone else had headed out. At first I was a little embarrassed….I wasn’t sure if Travis would be different. What if he was crying? I mean, Saanvi cried a ton when her dog got hit by a car. (It was AWFUL….I cried too, but nothing like Vi. She had to stay home for two days.) Anyway, I would hug her and pat her back and sit with her, but with a boy it’s different.
But Travis was the same as before, with his way-too-big smile and way-too-big cowboy hat, and before long he was laughing at my stories about Root trying to apprehend the guy dressed up like a train robber. But his laugh is more teeheeheeheehee, not TEEHEEHEEHEEHEE.
After breakfast we went out hiking, and he told me what had happened with Miss Georgia. It was easier to talk about while we were moving somehow—the trail was narrow, and we had to walk in a line, taking turns in front.
I asked him if it had been awful, and he paused, then shook his head.
“It wasn’t awful, not really.” He started walking again. “I mean, it was in some ways. It was awful at first, when the doctors were all up in a frenzy, trying this and that to help her, and Aunt Ruby was losing her darn mind, swearing at everyone and ordering them around. That was pretty bad.”
I nodded, and wished he was a friend like Vi, because I would have hugged him. Because honestly, it sounded more than “pretty bad” to me.
“But once they realized they weren’t going to save her, it actually got a little better. I mean, everything calmed down, you know? Does that sound weird?”
I shook my head, slowing a little to check out a particularly funky-shaped cactus. “Not really. It’s like…maybe this is a stupid comparison, but you know when you need to get a shot? And you get really freaked out and panicked and you have a hard time taking a deep breath and stuff, even an hour before you’re going to the appointment? And then, when you finally get the shot, sure, it hurts, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the freak-out before. Is it like that?”
“Exactly!” he said, stopping so fast, I bumped into him. “That’s exactly it. I was dreading and dreading hearing that this was it, that she was going. Heck, I’ve been dreading it for months now. And once they said there was nothing more to do but make her comfortable and make sure she had what she wanted…well, it was bad, but kind of better too.” He nodded a few times, looking a little relieved. “Glad you got that. I felt sort of awful for feeling that way, but I think I was just glad the dread part was getting to be gone.”
“Yeah, I totally get it,” I said, and it felt really good to see his giant smile appear again.
He also told me something that is part really cool and part really freaky: they had Miss Georgia cremated, and brought her ashes here. Their plan is to release them over the canyon at sunrise tomorrow.
“Are you allowed to do that?” I asked. “I mean, can you just fling someone’s ashes anywhere, or do you need…I don’t know, a permit or something?”
Travis shrugged. “No idea. Don’t plan to ask. Aunt Georgia always used to say it’s better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. I figure this is one of those times.”
We walked in silence for a minute while I thought about this. It was an interesting motto. I bet Laurel would approve, though the moms probably not so much.
As though he were reading my mind, Travis asked, “So what’s going on with Laurel and your moms? Any more fireworks, or what?”
I thought for a minute. The fact was, they hadn’t fought since S
anta Fe, since Gavin’s birthday and Miss Georgia and everything. And last night in our room, while Root and Ladybug played their five trillionth game of cards, Laurel curled up with her feet in Mom’s lap, the way she used to. (Also…Root. I mean, seriously, he is a really good guy. How many people would be willing to play that many games of cards with a cheating six-year-old?)
“They’re okay, I guess,” I said finally. “Laurel and I talked some in Santa Fe, and she’s still not sure what she wants to do. I mean…she’s actually not sure she even wants to leave school. But I don’t think she’s told them that. Basically everyone’s been pretty quiet for a few days, which is good. Laurel said she needs space to get her ‘head together.’ ”
Travis stopped to get a rock out of his shoe, and we both stood to the side, letting a group of very fit-looking Canadian hikers blow past us. He looked at me. “What does she really want, do you think?” he asked.
I stared out at the view, which looked like it could be on the cover of National Geographic, then down to the rest area ahead, which was mobbed with people, then to the trail under our feet, where someone’s crumpled candy wrapper lay on the path.
Bending down, I picked up the wrapper and shoved it into my back pocket. “I think she really just wants to do something that matters, you know?”
Travis nodded. “I get that,” he said. “But after this past week, when Dad had to make calls and let everyone know about Auntie Georgia, I wonder what that even means. Back home, when they heard about Auntie, literally more than a hundred people called us, asking when we’d be having a service, sending us memories and pictures and stuff. So what really matters? I mean, Auntie G never did anything most people would consider important. She was a receptionist for a car dealership for ages, but nobody says that would change the world. But…it did. She helped grow that business and she was friends with everyone there and she helped people buy their first cars, and in some cases she helped them keep their cars when they were short on cash. She knew everything about everyone who walked in there, and if anyone needed anything, she knew about it before they walked out.” He stopped talking for a minute, and we walked in silence.
This Would Make a Good Story Someday Page 14