Spokane, Washington turned him around.
Not the blaze of light turnaround that resurrects and revives. It was more as if he was shown how to walk into an inner sanctum of truths.
He didn’t figure there was anything mystical about this. No born-again visions. Nothing that required a revision of values.
It was just something that happened which let him see things he hadn’t been able to see before.
Maybe it was when he sat in the laundromat watching those two kids compete to see how hard they could slam the big doors shut on the dryers.
He kept waiting for their mother, a gaunt woman in a Lone Pine, California t-shirt, to tell them to stop.
But she never did. She just started into her phone.
He hauled the pile of laundry out to the car.
