Juniper Dream

I can't believe this trip was ten years ago already. Have I changed so much in the last decade?

Yes, in fact. The answer to that is a resounding yes. Lockdown, plague, double diagnosis, moving, almost dying a few times, losing friends and fam to death and even more to the political divide, having to completely change my lifestyle including eating habits (which means that restaurants are out, so lost some “friends” because they were just hanging around because we were generous with picking up the tabs), and dropping a quite malicious little narcissist.

Looking back on the trip we took for our twentieth anniversary, there are times when it seems like a wonderful dream, wreathed in the scent of juniper smoke.

My husband's job had been made redundant, and despite many attempts to find a new one, he was nearing the end of unemployment. We were understandably stressed and tightening our belts... and I stumbled across an article about a museum in New Mexico that was hosting an exhibit of Native American jewelry. Now, this is already tripping all sorts of exciting triggers for me: silver jewelry, Native American, turquoise, handmade. What popped it over the top was the fact that this was the first exhibit that I could find that also indicated which mine each piece's turquoise came from.

All of these things rather directly related to my job, since I was trying my very best to become as knowledgeable as I could about turquoise. If I worked for a jewelry franchise, I might have been able to claim a trip as a business expense. Working for a mom-and-pop shop? Where most of the jewelry was made on-site? No budget for it, no matter that they wanted me to go as well.

But then, I remembered something: Mom had said, a decade before, that she and Dad would pay for a trip to wherever we wanted to go for our tenth anniversary. Due to a former boss being a complete jerkhole to me at the time, we'd never been able to take a trip.

I immediately email my mom. Was that coupon still good?

Two weeks later, we were on the way to New Mexico.

We took the long way. I collect “squishies,” the elongated souvenir pennies. There were plenty of places between here and there to collect, plus experiences you can only get in the middle of nowhere, in states that are flown over but not visited so much.

Though I kept a journal of our experiences, I'll tell them in a slightly disjointed dream-sequence style, because that's how I remember my time in the desert with my husband.

Like the time a "tame” (HAH!) buffalo snorted at me in warning, because he didn't like the way my skirt was flapping in the wind over the mesa. Bulls are BIG, let me tell you! Such a contrast to the pronghorn antelope dancing in place at the side of the road on the way home, waiting impatiently for us (the only car for miles in either direction) to pass.

Seeing wagon ruts curling around a butte in the middle of nowhere, their scars on the land a mute statement to what we've gained and lost.

Traveling on Route 66 for squishies, and visiting Dodge City. Awesome antiques store on the old square, but we had to get out of Dodge...

Sunset in the desert goes on and on and on forever. Coming into Santa Fe in near darkness, in early December, with all the Christmas lights strung like captured constellations in a dark bowl.

Waking up to a snowy world, and a pair of ravens wheeling in ecstatic delight in the parking lot.

Driving towards Albuquerque, after the morning news begged people to please wear coats. Got to Sandia Peak, but the tram wasn't working because of high winds. That's okay, we were there for squishies and shopping. The poor cacti looked so cold! If they could swear, I think we would have heard it.

Adobe homes aside of modern builds, low stories, so odd to a person from the eastern U.S., where buildings are mostly vertical.

Visiting the Loretto Chapel, and marveling at the stairs, and paying my respects while the most glorious choir music played.

Yes, we saw the turquoise exhibit, and I learned so much! And appreciated the delicacy with which they were treating the artifacts, because the living tribes are justifiably unhappy at their ancestors' possessions and bodies not being repatriated. Many of the description cards reflect this conflict, a clash of cultures whose beliefs differ at their very core. The thing that struck me the most was an ancient stringed instrument, resting in a case, completely sealed – and the strings were playing themelves. Could it have been sound waves from heavy footfalls? Perhaps, but I bowed in respect anyway, and quietly left the ghostly musician to their contemplations.

We shared our chocolate with the museum ladies, since there's a local story that Hershey chocolate bought at the factory store tastes better than any bought in stores. We take some on trips, because chocolate makes good friends so far from home. When the school group visiting left, I had seen that they were allowed to play with ancient style drills to make shell jewelry. I asked if I could, and the ladies let us play! We treasure our drilled shells.

Darn you Santa Claus! I got to two of three turquoise museums I knew of in the area. The third was in the middle of nowhere, a partial ghost town. We loved walking around the abandoned buildings, taking pics of old buildings being reclaimed by the landscape. But the museum was closing early, because Santa was visiting! Delightfully strange people live in lonesome areas, I'm just saying. Our museum tour got interrupted because our guide had to rush out and jump up and down and wave at the train passing through, like it was a job imperative. That was the mildest of the odd stories from that place, but it certainly set a tone for our visit. Left alone in an unlocked museum! Dang my morals clauses!

Visiting Bandelier, and loving the slow clear heartbeat of an ancient place. We walked the trail to the ancient ruins, and suddenly I had to grab my husband and pull him back. We're not allowed to leave the path, the rules are very clear. But did anyone tell the mule deer, blocking our way?? And eating juniper from a downed branch with its buddies, munch munch munch. Want some? The visitor's center buildings had juniper fires going to stave off the morning chill, and that scent has haunted me to this day. I miss it, the stillness, the deer, the ravens greeting us at the entrance, the trees, paths so old that millennia of use haven't erased them.

Coming back to the St. Louis area, and having their signature style pizza. And concretes, oh and getting caught in three inches of snow in the middle of Kansas. We came out of the Cosmosphere, and I smelled the snow, and we immediately changed travel plans and found a hotel. Within moments the snow was coming down, and as we fretted about dinner, the hotel announced they'd set up a barbecue meal for their guests. The relief – not having to go out in the snow, and not having to endanger any delivery people! Eating in the room with the curtains open, watching the snow fall.

Visiting the salt mine the next day, loving the sensation of being there. So deep below the ground, surrounded by minerals, being able to collect some for a donation. Breathing properly. No, not that way, I'm asthmatic, no rasping. Feeling safe in an elevator for only once in my life (long story). Coming back to the surface, realizing the trip is almost over. Time to return to our lives. Sad, but calm, ready for the next adventure.

Because my husband had secured a job the day before we left, and our life would change in strange ways. How were we to know those ancient footpaths would lead us here?

And another anniversary is now fast approaching, and another trip planned, with more adventures. And squishies. And spending time together, and learning more about this strange and beautiful world we live in. What will we learn? How will it fit with what we've learned so far? How will it change us? Because it will, we have no doubt, and maybe point out paths we didn't notice.

I wonder where this path leads?