The After-Life

We stop at a rest area somewhere west of Ritzville. The girls go to the bathroom, and I take Ginger to the designated Pet Area. It’s starting to cool off, and the light is softening to that golden, early evening color. Behind us, it’s all desert buttes and rolling hills dotted with sage. It’s only been a few hours, but if you drive east from Seattle over the Cascade mountains, it can feel very far away.

I had this thought, admiring my family piddling under a tree, then playing around a picnic table, that maybe I had died and gone to heaven. Or, maybe I’m already in heaven.

I gathered them up, unlocked the car, and decided there’s no need to go to heaven. It’s right here.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in travel and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.