More Than One Way Out of the Valley
Winter has been lovely so far in the high peaks of Western North Carolina, if not also a bit disorienting. The week of Solstice and Christmas came with temperatures in the sixties. A couple of weeks later, it was 12 degrees outside. My family celebrated various holidays with meals, small gift exchanges, and a trip to see the NC Arboretum Winter Lights display.
I used skymiles for a 24-hour trip to Washington D.C., where I spent the day at Arlington National Cemetery with my cousins in order to honor my Uncle Mark (their father) who passed away suddenly last March. Marky used to place wreaths on the graves of my grandparents, as well as any other military service members whose relatives lived too far away to do so in person. Without Marky here this year, his kids and I continued the tradition. It was healing and also introspective to walk the grounds of Arlington National Cemetery at a time when I have so many questions about our nation’s actions on the global stage. The United States really does have a powerful history; not untarnished, but full of many worthy dreams and intentions. Another highlight of my trip was a night out on the town with friends and fellow authors Deb Ager and Mary Kay Zuravleff (shown below!).
Although it’s been sixteen months since Hurricane Helene tore through this part of the country, and a year since River and I got to move back home to reunite with Brad after our evacuation and separation…Helene is still with us every single day. Just last week, our little 2.87 acres of land lost five more trees, four of which fell across the driveway and the last of which snapped in half and crashed its top-most forty feet onto our front lawn. Arborists say the trees will be falling for five years after a storm like Helene, where gusts topped 100mph and water eroded and changed the land in ways beyond imagination. One of my Buddhist friends, Moya (shown below), visited us from Vermont and witnessed the devastation, remarking that very few people realize just how changed all our lives still are here. And yet, progress continues. Just this week, River’s school bus ride was restored to its pre-Helene route, signifying progress with road and bridge repairs around our home. It’s so wonderful to be able to walk to his bus stop again, instead of driving to a central drop point further from our home. And – glory be! – the southern half of two-lane State Highway 80 South, which was wiped off the side of the mountain during Helene, has been re-engineered and re-opened. This means we now have more than one way out of the valley, greatly increasing our safety and evacuation options during wildfire season.
And amidst all this recovery work and celebration, our region was also visited by DHS ICE agents, who specifically targeted trailer parks and immigrant work stations. For three weeks, I arrived at River’s bus stop ahead of schedule so that I could “patrullar la parada de autobús” (patrol the bus stop) and send an “es seguro” (it’s safe) text message to parents waiting to greet their children as they got off the bus. Indeed, a strange gift of Helene has been becoming friends with these families at that central drop point bus stop, and using my Spanish every day to communicate, learn, laugh, and advocate. An important lesson for River, too, as he was invited to Los Tres Reyes (The Three Kings) celebration where the vibrant, local community of Michoacán immigrants performed a dance demonstrating the balance between forces of good and evil. River was even “captured by the devil” at one point and bounced and jounced around playfully as a part of the re-enactment dance (shown above).
Last but not least–my writing! I have been feeling more energized as a result of some of the deeper levels of medical healing and long-covid recovery that are ongoing for me. The win this winter break was getting to work on my novel almost every single day for three weeks, finishing a reverse outline of the manuscript and starting on an immersive second draft with clear intentions and vigor.
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