This is Not a Love Story

When I left Arizona, it was early morning and desert cold. I drove north; snow blanketed the ground near Flagstaff. In the backseat of Cali, Charlie the cat was yowling. She would yowl for the first two hours before going silent. I can tell the story now, with flippancy and humor. I can make people chuckle at my misfortune and poor decisions. But that morning and later that day, I was the least like the person that most people know, and there was no laughter in me. I’d told a man I loved to do something or else I would leave. And then I left.

But this is not a love story.

The Passenger — To the West

My one and only brother is a recent graduate of UNC Greensboro, and like many college graduates, he iscurrently jobless. I invited him on this trip with me, because he’s one of the few people in the world that can spend long periods of time with me — a real talent. I asked him to introduce himself to the Monet to the Shore crew. He writes: “My name is Jumaane, pronounced somewhat like the movie, Jumanji, and I will be going out West with Monet. I’ve always had a strong interest in California, and could see myself living there in my head. This is the same head that thinks that it never rains in Southern California, and that the surf is always bound to be up…
And that’s part of the reason why it’s so important for me to travel. There’s an entire area of these United States of America that I’ve yet to see, and I want to see these places as they really are, not as I think they might be. While I am 16 going on 22, it’s imperative that I have some life mileage. So on with Monet, her faithful car Cali, and me. Surf’s up.”

Well said, Broseph. Eyes on the horizon.Image