Fernley, Nevada was where a raft of changes swept in.
She was heading to her father’s funeral in Laguna Beach, California and figured being alone she would roll through a few recollections of him. But very few memories appeared and this surprised her.
So did the amount of time she spent considering her own life. She was not given to self-reflection, although even before word of her father’s unexpected death, she had felt fresh thoughts simmering.
She had always been aware of the efforts she made to meet the expectations of others.
Casting herself in a light others would find favorable. Presenting herself as borderline invisible, distinguished only by her career and her agreeable nature.
She was growing resentful of the constraints. Whether or not this was brought on by the death of her father she had no idea.
But now that he and his expectations were gone, she decided to pay less regard to the expectations of others.
That night in her motel room in Fernley Nevada, she felt that truth was found both in light and darkness. Truth could be stumbled on just as easily as it could be deliberately sought out.
This was no spiritual crusade. Thoughts just seemed to drift in and they could not have arrived uninvited. Clearly they were her own.
She remembered her bright green velvet jacket down in the car, which she had not worn in ages. She wasn’t sure why she brought it.
Then the wind came up and gusts slammed the motel room window. She got up to pull the curtains closed. The plastic rod that hung down to pull them came off. She held it like a magic wand and waved it back and forth a few times across the frayed curtains.
She laughed when the gusts immediately stopped. She set the detached pole on the dresser next to the plastic ice bucket. She picked up the ice bucket. The adhesive brown wrapper was peeling off. She made sure she had the room key and went down the hall to the ice machine.
Not a single chunk of ice rattled down through the cracked plastic chute.
