Muddy Sandals

I've returned from possibly my last picnic in the Luberon hills here in Provence. Bailey and I have been here since mid October, staying with my eccentric aunt Jacqueline. We've been going on these hikes almost every day that we have been here, first hiking down to the stream by way of an ancient spring, then slowly huffing and puffing it up through the hills covered in thyme and stunted pines. Some of the time, we're hiking on an old Roman road. Centuries of rolling cartwheels have dug into the road, making perfect gutters for rainfall to run down. It's been raining at night, so there's lots of mud around, and the moss makes a squishy sound when you walk on it. Today, we hiked up and had a picnic of "craquante" bread, kiri cheese, mandarine oranges, and 2 chocolate cookies. No bugs around. No sounds other than the wind in the trees and maybe a bird here and there. When you look up in the sky though, there are half a dozen jet trails crisscrossing the sky. Up until seeing the jets, I'm present, I'm here in Provence. But as soon as I see those white lines cutting the blue sky, I'm off.

Happens every time. I used to be a flight attendant, so I know there are hundreds of people in those dot airplanes. They each have a story, going to, coming back from, happily, sadly, indifferently.. some place too far to drive to. And I'm going to be one of those people in two days. I've already cleaned up my room and set aside my backpack. I've gotten all my finances in order. Yet, I still feel cluttered. Most of it is guilt, I think. I feel guilty for not having "saved" my aunt from herself. Instead, I think I've made it worse.

So, I'm off to clean my mind and my soul. We're headed for Jordan Friday morning. Going to live in the desert for 3 months with a Bedouin family. I fantasize about seeing God in a burning bush. Maybe I'll get some answers there, maybe not. But, as the French say, I've got to go over there to see if I'm there.