The plan to stay my first night in Nelson is quickly dissolved a few hours later by a phone call from Grandma coupled with taking the wrong highway through the mountains.
“Well, you absolutely must at least stop by,” Grandma says to me as I’m wondering how to do a U-turn on BC's fastest six-lane highway.
“Gram I have to go, but count me in. I’ll be by this afternoon,” though I know ‘stopping by’ won't mean a quick visit.
The dogs Max & Daisy at my grandparent's homeOn the Coquihalla which I zoom down all the way to West Bank, I think to unroll my window to stick up my thumb and yell YOU’RE AWESOME!! at the sweet biker next to me. He has some sort of terrier sitting behind him on the passenger seat. This might be perilous for the little dog as he doesn't appear to be attached to the Harley in any way, but he seems quite content and I fall in love with the contrast of the burly biker man and the little dog in for the ride. I don’t yell out any joyful affirmations as I have a rather quiet voice and yelling never seems to achieve the effect I desire, but as I pass them I do stick up my thumb and make my eyes all happy for the two companions.
Arriving in Penticton and waiting for Grandma to meet me at our favorite coffee shop in Penticton, one of two young men driving a van down Main St. hollers NICE ASS!! Stopped at a red light I walk up to the driver's open window of the van and thank them quite seriously. They are embarrassed and I think it’s safe to say, feeling a little less expressive. Before I leave their side, I give a little smile to let them know they haven't fucked up forever and it feels like they are grateful for that and relieved and in that instant there is an air of camaraderie and respect. The light turns green and we part ways. I feel all the pedestrians checking out my ass and really, it's not my best feature. They could have yelled out NICE HAIR!! or NICE DEFINITIVE CALVES GIRL!! but seriously. The madness of this world.
Aunt, Uncle, the Kids, the Dogs, the Cat, the Grandparents -- it turns out to be a full house and we have a big dinner in the backyard hot air of the Okanagan. We sit outside until midnight drinking wine, telling stories and chatting happily. The next morning -- “Gram, what’s your favourite fruit? I ask my grandmother. I'm changing the subject. We have a large display of fruit and pastries for breakfast and I need a diversion in conversation. It’s stressing me out that everyone has been emphatic that I should travel Rogers Pass to reach the prairies. There is something in me that absolutely does not want to go that way right now. I remember stopping my car along the winding highway the first time I saw the Rockies. They are so different from the mountains I am used to, jutting, bare and foreboding compared to the lush green and soft appearance the trees provide to the mountains in BC. More than that, they carry a sense of energy that is so much more expansive, electric and intimidating than what I’m capable of absorbing at this point in my life.
Well, she says most contemplatively. They used to be apricots. But not anymore. I picked them off our tree just recently and before I could can them, they were spreading their misery.
You mean they were rotting? I ask.
They were going bad, she says.
Pretty intimidating stuff, a shot I took in May on my way to Canmore.My aunt, uncle and the kids have now departed our home here on the Skaha bluffs, headed back to their own home in Rocky Mountain House after a great summer vacation in BC. Cole, who is going into Grade 10 tells me I'll be able to see Quebec from the flatlands of Saskatchewan. This sounds like a great deal to me. I love Montreal.
Oh Kendra, my uncle says exasperated with my gullibility, you’re just ridiculous.
They’ve invited me to come visit them on my return trip from Saskatchewan and I can tell they are not thrilled with me as I keep ‘bailing’ on them for the ‘boy in Canmore’ each time I venture over to Alberta. The first time it was snowing on the highways in May, I keep saying and the last time he was incredibly sick and everything was just about as unproductive as you could imagine, I keep insisting.
So what's happening with that boy in Canmore? my uncle asks.
Nothing, I say. We send pleasant, cheerful messages every now and then.
My uncle shakes his head and says, You lead such a complicated life.
I feel like shaking my head too.
My Uncle taking a nap with the dogs and the catWell, maybe I did sort of bail on my aunt and uncle those two times, but I sort of do that. The timing has to feel right and you can never achieve that with definitive plans. That's when everything goes awry. And that’s never good for anyone.
Anyways, back on the road for me. Here is the newest quote I love from Japhy out of Dharma Bums by Kerouac.
'All these people,' said Japhy, 'they all got white-tiled toilets and take big dirty craps like bears in the mountains, but it's all washed away to convenient supervised sewers and nobody thinks of crap any more or realizes their origin is shit and civet and scum of the sea. They spend all day washing their hands with creamy soaps they secretly wanta eat in the bathroom.'
A Good Traveling Song: I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers
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