new mexico 3:3
The unblinded sun woke me around seven. The kids were playing, I thought, with the pig. I lay there awhile, pretending Maya was my wife, away for the day. But Jack and Jill were not my kids, and I could not pretend that far. They had a mother somewhere, and I was supposed to deliver them to her. Still, I drove out and bought some breakfast makings, cooked up eggs and pancakes and orange wedges, the first real breakfast we'd cooked ourselves. The kids liked it, I thought, ate more than usual. They were more energetic loading the car and didn't seem to mind getting back into it for another day of driving toward another strange bed. I was reluctant. Inside the adobe lump of a house, it was cool, and by nine it was 90 outside, probably 112 in the car already. Brush your teeth, I told the kids, and they did it, spritzing each other with water, then I took another shower, as icy cold as I could stand, then I made sandwiches for lunch, wrote a long note to Maya thanking her, proposing marriage - not really, ha - promising all my due correspondence. It was noon when we left, ninety-eight in the shade.
move on... 
other roads...
Back Up...
other roads:
