Page 36 of Road Refugees

“Well,” said Town warmly, standing at my side. “I don’t think we’ll have any harnesses.”

But I was on a roll, as they say. “I’ll walk swiftly to the outhouse in the morning—”

“We have bathrooms.”

“—and we can eat venison twelve months of the year—”

“Maybe elk.”

“—and we’ll be part of the population of Native Americans and farmers, so we won’t have to follow laws.”

“Wow,” said Slappy, who I had not known was behind me. “Sounds like heaven to me. Ah, ha ha! Heaven! Did you see what I just did?”

I continued, “We will have mushrooms the size of a baby’s fist!” The sun eased down behind the tree line now. A half-moon was stamped to the bowl of sky, watercolor clouds drifting before it. I felt like I was in a lunar module exploring space. “I’m in my cockpit watching the whole panorama of the heavens.” I felt overwhelmed by something much bigger than myself.

Town jumped on the stump next to me. He put a comforting hand on the back of my neck. “You’re getting it, Heaven. You’re really getting it. I can’t wait to start the mushrooms with you.”

I relaxed back into his chest. His breath was warm on my ear. He was like an adoring dog breathing on me. It felt like love, although I knew that was part of the trip.

The next day, I brought my meager possessions up to my new bedroom in the pine log cabin.