We traveled NM 107, a plume of dust behind us like a pheasant's tail. We were looking for The Gate, where Bill and I put our Polaroid on a tripod and took our picture in November, 1992, before we were married, before Phoebe and Liam, before almost anything had happened in our young lives. If anything, the pull of that old corral and gate and the mountains all around it is even stronger today, and I started crying quietly as soon as we left Evett's Cafe, in anticipation and joy and sheer rapture of being in this sacred spot once again.
Soon the primitive fenceposts we were looking for hove into view.
We made our way to The Gate, and Wayne kindly took our picture. Liam is trying to make me stop crying. He has a little trouble with happy tears. I guess most men do.
We also posed for a recreation of the original Polaroid, complete with bad color (my camera was set two stops too light).
And another with the family. Liam has wrapped himself all around us, bald baby-suddenly-turned-supermodel Phoebe is squeezing me, Bill's strong arms enfolding us all, the new Navajo bling he just got me is hanging from my neck... At this point I'm really losing it. Life is so good.
Bill found the bottlecap he put in the old post last year to mark the spot.
Phoebe and Liam against the light. Now this is their sacred spot, too. We've only been here once more than they have. I hope that when they're pushing 50, they'll come here and stick a bottlecap in the post, too.
Tomorrow early, we head for Pennsylvania for my Big Weekend. I'll probably be out of touch until Monday, but you can be sure I'll have pictures of the gala event. I'm so looking forward to it, and trying not to dither too much. I'm so happy to have my little nuclear family, and even my brother and sister-in-law coming to the show! Life is good!