Driving past the early morning shores of Lake Tahoe, on my way home from a far more distant shore, I got a call from my beloved aunt Bettie Lou. We had not spoken in years, since my grandmother’s funeral, though I’ve always considered her one of my very favorites. She is a dear woman. One ought know that her voice is slow and full of a honey-dew kind of sweetness. Truly, she is one of Oklahoma’s few fine citizens. The conversation we had is the most concise and meaningful way to describe my recent travels.
BL: Robby Joe, I heard you might be coming to see me on your way home.
RJ: Oh Bettie Lou, I was, I was. But I took a turn.
BL: Mmmmhmm, and where did you go?
RJ: I went to California.
BL: Now, I thought you were going to the desert.
RJ: Well I drove through several.
BL: And why did you go to California?
RJ: To see about someone.
BL: Was this always part of the plan?
RJ: I don’t know.
BL: You had to do it in person.
RJ: I believe so.
BL: Goodness. It’s just as if I’m talking to your father.
RJ: I am indeed my father’s son. I’m sorry Bettie Lou.
BL: You should be. I even changed the sheets for you.
RJ: They probably needed a changing.
BL: Yes probably. Now tell me, what did this someone do when you arrived?
RJ: She um, told me she hates me.
BL: I see, so does she have a reason to.
RJ: I think probly.
BL: So that’s that?
RJ: Well, I told her I wanted her to come to the Ranch with us this summer.
BL: Oh, so I’ll get to meet her?
RJ: That’s the idea.
BL: So she’s coming?
RJ: Well, like I said, she sort of…
BL: Right. Well it’d be so wonderful to see you, with the shape grandpa’s in…
RJ: I know, I can’t believe I haven’t been in so long.
BL: Well you know, it’s like I always say, here or in heaven, either way. Here or Heaven.The light atop the lake’s waves shattered and shattered and shattered through the passing trees. The sky was white as the drooping mounds of snow. For the first time since I last saw that ancient forgetful Pacific, the pockets behind my eyes pushed salty and I breathed. I paused to collect my face and waited, so that when I spoke again my aunt might believe that I was still smiling and shining as before.
RJ: You said it right, Bettie Lou.
BL: Well, love does what you’re doing today. It drives and drives.
RJ: Waits and waits.
BL: A lot of people must think you’re a crazy fool now.
RJ: I think they already did.
BL: And you’re the one who disagrees…
RJ: I think I may have appeared a bit late. But I know I’m right about this.
BL: That sounds like my nephew.
RJ: He used to think he was right about everything. Now just one thing.
BL: Well then, we can hope can’t we?
RJ: Hope is one of our few remaining rights, Bettie Lou.
BL: And I assume you’re stopping to take pictures, you take such beautiful pictures.
RJ: Not really, no. That would require stopping.
BJ: Oh no how sad. What about all the places you’ve seen, all the places you’ll never see again?RJ: It doesn’t matter. I’ll remember. I’ll remember everything.