Goodbye. Such a word. Sometimes Bye is a Good thing. Many times not. Yesterday was both. Good because the reality is, MMD and I have very full and busy lives that need tending. Business, writing, family, friends, and our day to day existence are all outside of the bubble in which we placed ourselves for a few days. Not so good for the obvious reasons you might think. We had a wonderful time just being mud ducks. Yesterday, there were no outward tears, only promises of a return. With that, he took flight and was gone.
Coming home to the empty house just was. Not anything descriptive. It just WAS. Everything the same as before, just quiet. A cup of coffee, half filled and cold. A bar stool askew. Laundry in mid cycle. Dishes in the sink. Evidence of activity only hours old.
I sat in the recliner with Oliver and thought for awhile. Just took inventory of the events from Saturday past until now. Every little detail, joke, and look. I filed them in my brain for easy retrieval, while periodically texting with MMD as he flew over the desert I love so much. Hawthorne, Mina, Luning, Tonopah, Goldfield, Beatty. Places I have eaten and slept, but never seen from the air.
The rest of the day was spent resting. I finished watching The King and I, and, sadly, the Kind still died. I stretched a Subway sandwich between lunch and dinner. I held Oliver and told him secrets he assured me he will hold dear. With some things he agreed, with others he gave me his judgmental gaze, before promptly falling asleep from sheer and utter boredom. With little else to occupy my time, writing brought solace through thoughts and words swirling in my head. MMD had landed safely, while focus and clarity settled my soul.
At 4:20, my phone alerted that a text had arrived. I always like to guess who is contacting me before looking. The list of possibilities is short, but I didn’t expect this.
On the screen flashed one picture, no text was needed.
The visual was confirmation that I HAD seen the name on the house. I could really drink this in without being considered a stalker. The image was so perfect. In my mind, there was nothing that would symbolize VST and I better than two mustangs in a clearing, surrounded by trees. We had found a safe place to settle and rest, protected from the dangerous elements of our world. Although we were part of a much larger herd, for a time, we were traveling alone, enjoying the fresh grass and each other. That sign said everything VST would have wanted it to say, and yet, was totally chosen for new owners with their own stories and reasons for selecting it.
How did the Mrs. know that this would mean the world to me? How did she decide to send it at just the right moment? Did she see me at the moment I saw this for the first time? I had been so stunned, I didn’t notice if anyone was present. She couldn’t have known that this visual would bring me back to the wonderful day MMD and I had shared on Sunday. Her thoughtfulness and sweet soul I first met when I found a still warm loaf of bread left at the back door after VST had died. I had cried the ugly cry then, too, in the midst of Covid solitude and grief.
The picture reminded me that I stood so many times eating grapes at the top step from a very abused and neglected vine that, in spite of that, provided summer sweetness. I spent hours painting railings and trim, washing windows, or spraying the patio to prepare this home for them. The perfect naming spot had always been right where they hung their plaque, we just hadn’t known that.
I immediately sent a text to her, thanking her for the picture, and letting her know the ugly cry had got me at the initial sight of something so unbelievably humbling and beautiful. I also sent her the link to the blog, saying the day had been documented under the name DunMovin. A few minutes later, she assured me that she, too, had experienced the ugly cry while reading it. The Mrs. is a good, good woman. DunMovin is hers to love.
Virginia City, Nevada. She pulls all the strings. She knows things. Important things. Lasting things. She chooses her own. She keeps some people. She lets some go. I think maybe, just maybe, she had a little bit of compassion and sorrow at how things ended for me. She is making amends and we are settling our differences, little by little, Virginia City, and I. Through the sweetness and grace of two very dear new owners, VST is smiling. There is a name on a place he loved so much. A perfect name for two that have come home, a perfect name remembering two that moved on. In that, I find peace.