Lone Heron has spent a couple nights away from this place when she has sampled the local motels. She says she needs a tub to soak in, that this climate pulls the moisture from her body—but I think the reality is she cannot abide the close quarters and loss of privacy entailed.
We are all rugged individualists and accustomed to living alone. It is a miracle we have all gotten on so well for nearly two weeks—far in excess of the three days when house guests and fish are said to begin stinking.
Lone Heron has begun receiving emails from her bodyworking clientele in Georgia, asking when she will return. They say they need her. She says she will go back on Monday, but only time will tell. It took me years of ambivalence until symptoms of homesickness for West Texas began to appear. This life takes some getting used to… I cannot expect more, so I am taking it slow.
Yesterday I signed the revised documents for the Estrella Vista Trust before a notary. They establish Lone Heron and Alex as two of the four successor trustees of the property after I die (with my son Henry and Nathan Ybanez as the remaining two), and both Alex and Lone Heron were witnesses.
I can tell that already Lone Heron is experiencing second thoughts: “What have I gotten into?” Alex is experiencing none—but then, he is young and has no idea what the future will bring. Lone Heron, on the other hand, is reluctant to admit that she will some day give up the life she has worked so hard to establish.
Today we are breaking up again. Alex and I are driving to Alpine and taking in the annual “Gem and Minerals Show” (no cover), which he is quite excited about. Lone Heron is remaining behind to visit Whitebear and his wife Julie, her future neighbors. Tonight we will compare notes, and hopefully neither will have more second thoughts than already exist.
89° and Clear