Whats Next

“Well, we must wait for the future to show,” said Mr Bankes, coming in from the terrace.(1)

We have arrived in Denton, Texas. We knew it when we saw our first old cowboy—waving to us with a kindly welcome and a friendly grin. The fact that it was one in the morning and in front of a grocery store seemed only slightly odd. We are living now in a town where the car at the stoplight is bumping Brad Paisley. The local donut shop is called “Donut,” and it coexists happily with “Yummy’s” and “Frilly’s”— Greek and Cajun eateries. We are living now in God’s country, where on Sunday we heard a local preacher enliven his sermon with the phrase, “I’d kill ‘im, and you would too.”

We are living now with a seven-toed cat named Kalamazoo. “Kally” and his companion were part of the gift set, along with a house and pool, generously offered by friends to help us transition into life here in Texas. The house astounds with its glass-happy architecture and vibrant colors. You would love it. The cats qualify as our only roommates right now and constitute, unless we widen our circle to include waitresses and 7-11 employees, the group of living organisms to which we speak. Cat friends are depressing.

But our outlook brightens. After all, we survived the caravan from California to Texas. If, in last year’s trip to Russia, we identified with spacemen visiting an alien world, then this year we were mahouts coaxing our van across the 1400 mile desert. We had estimated our driving time at about 22 hours. For most of the 30-hour journey, our boxy beast was the slowest thing on the road. The languorous pace allowed plenty of time to take in surroundings; unfortunately, the surroundings of New Mexico and Arizona comprise mostly truck stops and mile markers. The exception is “The Thing”—a marvel of Interstate 10—which we visited after years of mystery and speculation. In fact, “The Thing” somehow had the power to draw our moving van forward with the fuel tank on “E” for 23 miles—uphill and through the rain—so that we stopped eerily at the doorstep of the “The Thing’s” gas station. Yes, “The Thing” has that kind of power. No, I won’t say what “The Thing” is. No, it is not a papier-mâché hoax.

So we arrived, moved into our temporary house, and unloaded our van into storage last week. We have spent this week enjoying our beautiful temporary house and chasing down driver’s licenses, car registration, and any leads on houses for sale. We have eaten at the local Pei Wei three times. Tomorrow we will try “Donut.”

(1) Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse