Vernonia
M picked me up from work. She brought a picnic dinner but we had to wait to eat it. Her friends were meeting us. First here. Then we were driving to their new place in Vernonia in two cars. But they weren’t there yet and M hadn’t heard from them.
So we walked around the warehouse. I showed her things. She saw someone she knew and talked to him for a bit before we circled back to the car. Her phone rang. Her friends were close by. We drove to the front of the warehouse because people have a hard time finding the parking area in back.
They saw us, turned the corner, and we followed them up the road to the bridge. They called from the car and texted us the address in case we lost them. Whoever was behind the wheel was driving like an Andretti.
Keeping up wasn’t an issue. M drives fast and traffic was fairly light. We were north of the city and getting farther away from it every minute. We were in the woods there was no traffic at all. Only trees and felled trees and meadows and bright yellow bushes that are said to be invasive but lined our way, which was west.
We came to a T and went south. We drove through rural areas and towns where there isn’t much going on. We went beyond the name of a town that’s hard to pronounce. We closed in on our destination. We turned onto a private road that was gravel and went for just a bit before pulling over. Are we there? Or do they want to talk?
We were there but not there there. We pulled over to stretch and look to our left and to our right. This was the land that they bought—35 acres all around us. Beyond was forest owned by a paper company that cyclically cuts down trees. It harvests timber, plants new trees and cut those down, too. Maybe there would be logging here. Maybe not for years or for decades. It was hard to tell.
Right now, there are no people. There was no traffic or sounds. Ours, were the only two cars on this gravel road. We went farther for a few minutes before road ended at a circle and gate. All around us was a baby forest. A sky—so much sky—and a view On this night — we were there for sunset — there were clouds and colors.
They say it’s particles in the air that make colors at sunset, someone said. So they are more beautiful the farther away you get from the city. We are far — about an hour from the city. We went through windy roads. Will you remember the turns to get back? M asks. Let’s not go back the same way, I say.
We had a lot of space, one the friends says, for the city. But this feels like nature. Their old spot, an hour away, was big. There were lot of trees, but you could hear trucks and trains. I listen now and hear only birds chirping. Here, there are no people.
In the city, they are protesting. There is rioting. People are breaking glass windows. There are many arrests.
We are picnicking. We are taking precautions for the pandemic. We are getting away and showing support for friends who just bought a new place to call home.
The sun is setting. We don’t want to be here in the dark dark so we begin to pack up. We drive to the end of the road and I notice the house mortgaged for this large chunk of land. It’s not bad from the outside. Someone is living inside, so we hardly slow down before taking a left to get onto the main road. That leads us to town. The main road takes us to the highway. Then home.
I’m getting tired. M is driving and keep her company with things that pop into my mind. I get quiet and look out the window. We haven’t been out of town in months. We haven’t been in the car together this long for awhile.
After a time, M asks if I would put a podcast on from her phone. It’s a good one and by the time we enter the city limits, it’s ending. The protests are going on but we bypass them all together. M takes the freeways to avoid the city center, and I’m glad she didn’t listen to me. She went the way she was comfortable with.
When we get home, I’m exhausted. I read for only 5 minutes before I fall asleep. M wakes me up when she comes to bed. I get up to go to the bathroom before coming back and falling asleep a second time.
