I'm at a campsite deeply removed from even a sparsely populated village, so of course I'm nowhere near a town or proper city. Just driving here was its own extraordinary adventure of winding around hundreds of hills, missing signs, missing turns, turning around, climbing and dropping down the ground like it was the sea - nelson didn't like it. It made him anxious.
When he gets anxious he tries to climb over my seat and onto my lap while I'm driving.
Me: 95 lbs.
Nelson: 145 lbs.
So we finally got here and it is BEYOND beautiful. Literally stunning - I tried to describe it on the phone and could find no words to fit it. Like last night I'm surrounded by woods and looking at a lake, but the quality is so much higher. Each site is on its own dock built over the lake, and includes the section of woods in front of it. So I'm on my dock, but it's nearly october. There are no other campers. Nelson and I have some several hundred wooded, lakeside acres all to ourselves.
He took a few walks within the first hour and a half of our arrival, but then the pre-storm weather started to build. The sky went dark, the fog became a drizzle, there were distant camera-flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder deep enough to barely be audible.
I thought it was all terrific.
Nelson thought the world was ending.
Here's the image you should take from this:
Me, in an inside-out oversize white tee shirt and knee-high rubber rain boots, laying on my back in my car (with the back seat folded down. Look for the pics of my car-bed.), looking out the sunroof and grinning ear to ear while the rain gets stronger and heavier while Nelson tries over and over again to wiggle his entire body under mine, nose first.
Also - if you're on twitter, send your love to my very dear, very close friend, mister @treybytrey (or trey, as he's usually known). He and I have been through a lot of shit together that nobody should ever have to go through, but the funny thing is that half of that shit was my idea that I convinced him to join me in doing, and the other half was him bringing me along. Really though, I've seen a lot of things that I don't tell anybody about. But he is the only living person to whom I can not only tell those things, but with whom I can discuss them. He's talked me off of plenty of bridges, he's fed me, clothed me, put me up for weeks at a time, counseled me, listened to me, and genuinely cared about me. I'm pretty sure that he's the only person whose empathy I can feel - I can see him trying to see the world from my perspective, and that's a rare thing.
He's a rare type of man.
Happy Birthday Trey.
Xo
-a
(The first pic is my view from my car's rear windshield, the second is a pic of my car parked at the campsite.)
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
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