Part 8 (1/2)

The house was a whole lot bigger than I thought it would be, and your Christmas flowers were still in the dining room, prominently displayed! It was wild walking those halls you had walked and played in so many years ago. I remembered your telling me that you used to roller-skate on the wood floors of the slanted hallway. Well, guess what? The skate marks are STILL THERE!!! Rosa told me that they had tried to buff them out but to no avail. I was happy that I got to see them.

There were family photos on the mantel, and when Rosa was showing me the daughter, Fita, she began to cry. Fita died almost a year ago from cancer. It was so sad. Rosa cried the whole rest of the time I was there, and I hugged her tight and told her that Fita was with G.o.d and it's all okay for her now, it's just sad for those of us left behind. What a kind, openhearted lady. I'll never forget her.

Love, Carrie

San Antonio house with a recent facelift

I was so pleased that Carrie paid a visit to the old San Antonio house, and had been invited in for a special tour by Rosa. I had given her the address before she left Gunnison to go on this trip. Nanny and I had left San Antonio for Los Angeles when I was seven, but I still remember skating on the cracked sidewalk in front of the house, falling down, skinning my knees, and screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder when Nanny was hot on my trail with the iodine. After several of these mishaps Nanny decided that I should roller-skate inside the house on the hallway that led to the front screen door (retiring the iodine bottle for good, much to my relief). This, needless to say, was the time when I contributed the permanent skate marks to the floor.

The roller skate marks I made in 1937 are still there!

From: Carrie

To: Mama

Sent: Dec. 31, 2000

Subject: NEW YEAR'S EVE!!!

Tonight I hear they have fireworks and bands by the Riverwalk Hilton, not too far from where I'm staying. I may walk over later (bundled up, it's in the thirties) if I feel like it. The fresh air and exercise will be good for me after four days on my b.u.t.t in the car. I jimmied the window in the room so that it could open. I hate hotels with windows that don't open, so I brought my trusty screwdriver with me to undo the locks. (I'm very good at it and don't leave any marks!) Other than that, I'm very happy I threw down for a nice hotel (not a $26 motel) if for no other reason than room service. The food on the road is wretched and this way if I get going with writing, I don't have to leave for any reason. Besides, I'm a sucker for the water gla.s.s with the plastic wrap over the top.

Hope you're having a fine New Year's Eve doing whatever makes you happy. I so prefer being alone on nights like these. Wonder why? I do miss my friends and family, and the awareness of being a woman traveling alone never leaves me, but for some reason I like being off my footing a little.

I thought maybe I would be jotting down significant emotional experiences on the road, but so far I've just felt content and happy to be moving. It's a kind of basic, animal thing. I'm sure that has to do with just driving. Even with what I call ”dawdling” on the road, I managed to get a speeding ticket. (Don't worry, Mama, I've slowed down.)

Last night, I went to a cafe that looked very local and had a huge WELCOME HUNTERS sign out front. I'm not unfamiliar with that kind of thing in Colorado, but walking into a place like that you never know what you're going to find. It was very busy. The warmth between the people who ran the place (looked to be a family operation) and the diners was palpable. Reminded me of home. And I found it made me feel good instead of blue. I genuinely like people a whole lot, and it seems to me that no matter what our differences may be, we have much more in common than the beliefs that separate us.

I've always felt that we're really just part of one larger ent.i.ty... .

Love, Carrie

”Mama, something weird just happened to me.” After having been in her room for a while, Carrie had come into the den downstairs with a peculiar look on her twelve-year-old face.

”What, honey?”

”I left my body.”

”What?”

”It scared me.”

”What happened?”