Bastrop

Bastrop, originally uploaded by colmmcsky.

Taken from the car by Mike as I drove about 65mph under cloudy skies.

I'm going to let you know right now, that if you say something to me about the circle of life or any other sappy bullshit about nature and death, that I will ban you from ever speaking to me again. I know perfectly well that fires occur in nature, that forest fires are part of the life cycle of the world, all those things. I know in theory, the country could grow back. (Though I suspect we're poisoning the planet in such ways that it might be impossible.) The point it, I know, I get it, I know you think you're sharing your depth of spiritual wisdom or acceptance or whatever - but fucking don't. Just don't. I am not in any frame of mind to hear that gracefully.

We drove through Bastrop today on the way home. The drive took so long because we drove through pouring rain, the first time I've seen something like that in more than six months. When we left town last week, we passed Bastrop in the dark. The shadows of the forest made me uneasy. But seeing it today was like a death. I cried as I drove those miles, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from just losing my grip entirely. It hurt, it hurt so much to see that devastation. All those trees, burned into black spires. The colors red and gold in some grotesque mockery of autumn were just the scars of the fire. This utterly beautiful place, just gone.

Driving through that little part of the world always felt joyous. Something about the curve of the road and those tall trees, at any slant of the light, gave me a feeling of fierce happiness. It was this point between things for me, a literal still point in the turning world. Losing it hurts, like someone I loved died.

Even if the forest grows back, it won't be in my lifetime. I won't ever get to accelerate downhill on Highway 71 with that joyous abandon, going from one moment to the next.