Travel, Love, and Let go

A beaming sun lays warmth along highway forty-six, stagnating heat pours in through the windows. The glaring road winds ahead of her like something wild and free curving left and right, then left again, rising and falling with the hills in that easy, thrilling yet relaxing way which evokes the sensation of riding a roller coaster. Gracie has driven this stretch countless times each time, resonating with it, her mind, body, and spirit experiencing cohesion in nature. The particular loosening which transpires with open roads, blue skies, hill views- minimal vehicles along the winding road. Nothing and no one asking anything of you. Just relax, breathe in the warm late summer air, marvel at the hills and keep your eyes on the road.

A relaxed meditative mindset propels Gracie forward through the hilly winding back road highway.

Gunner leans his head out the window. His ears rest erect, tongue hanging sideways, whiskey eyes squinting into the wind embodying the particular bliss of a creature who has decided that this — exactly this — is the whole point of being alive.

She reaches over to rub his chest without looking. He loves it, then stretches his paw out for Gracie to hold. She embraces his soft tricolored paw for a moment, before returning her lightly tanned hand to the wheel.

The grass along the shoulders beholds hues of golden green in the late September heat, the hills rolling in every direction — soft and slow and ancient-looking, the kind of landscape you stare at for hours. The hills enormous stature kiss the sky providing relief from busy city congestion. That is the thing about Texas: the hills are never a backdrop. It is the whole conversation, like the light blue sky and western themed architecture.

She cracks her window a little wider.

The air trickling in is warm. Thick, stuffy, hugging like a heated blanket plastered against your face and body. Comforting yet Smothering. In the glove box, a wearable fan waits to be worn. Pushing the little black button she rolls the window back up, feeling the ice cold air conditioning set at sixty-five. The smell of beach coconut sunscreen fills her nares, along with Gunner’s citrusy scented fur coat. An iced pumpkin mocha rests in the black plastic cup holder, which Gracie also breathes in delightfully.

Vermont had been fifty-two degrees. She’d woken up comfortable under one thick fleece lined blanket, to the sound of chimes humming and clattering together in the early autumn breeze.

She loves Texas. She’s been coming and going for six years after finishing college and still feels the pull of it in a way she can’t quite explain to people who hadn’t grown up here. But it is late September still pushing ninety degrees, and her body has spent a few days basking in the memory of what cool air feels like, and now every degree is personal.

The beach. A cool breeze while anticipating a rosy tangerine sunset. That is the answer. Mysterious blue green waves turning white and clear while rushing to the tan sandy shoreline.

She is going to park the van, walk straight into the waves, and stay there until she feels relieved of the oppressing heat of South Texas.

Gunner is going to have a blast. Gracie pictures him splashing in ocean waves.

“Gunner, we are going to the beach.”

The German Shepard tilts his head to the side then wags his tricolored tail, of black, brown, and tan, tapping it on the grey upholstery.

Up ahead, the paved road levels briefly near a traffic light. Gracie slows with the line of cars ahead. On the right, a grassy pull-off opens up — one of those informal roadside setups that appear in the Hill Country without warning or explanation, like they'd just grown there. A hand-lettered sign advertised Fredericksburg peaches. Beside it, cowhide rugs are draped on wooden rods in irregular patches of brown and white, minding their business in the sun. A food trailer sits parked at the back of it all, a cord of grey smoke drifting from its vent.

The light is red. She sits with her wrist over the wheel and looks at it. Admiring the sterling silver seashell bracelet her grandmother handed down to her before she passed.

There is a family in a lawn chairs near the peaches, tending the stand, interacting with one another whilst watching the traffic go by with friendly expressions. A man in a cowboy hat was talking to his wife near the cowhides, gesturing at the set up.

Quintessentially. Completely. Bandera County, Texas. The hilly countryside.

She smiles as the light turns green, takes a left down highway sixteen.

Helotes appears quietly, the way small towns do on this stretch — Stone Churches on either side, the country dance store where concerts are often held. The Helotes gas station is on the right: white stone, country rustic appearance with clean lines, the kind of place that has been kept up and shows it. A couple of vehicles are parked at the pumps. Some customers are entering and exiting the store.

Gracie pulls in, cuts the engine, and swings her door open into a wave of still air. Even hotter without the highway moving under her. The air thick and stuffy, barely breathable. She releases a sigh.

Gunner looks over at her from the passenger seat, assessing the surroundings, and watching her with loving whiskey eyes; almost like a dark amber marble, softened, melting with love and admiration.

I know, she told him, without saying it. We’ll get there. The woman gazes at her dog, pouring her green eyes like sparkling emeralds into his as her long curly golden brown hair flies about in the late summer breeze.

She is filling the tank, standing casually against the side of the van, watching the numbers climb, when she notices two men near a truck at the far pump. Black Fishing bibs, both of them. One of them —she glances at, captivates her attention. Tall. Standing easy against the truck bed in a way that didn't seem practiced — just the natural lean of someone comfortable in their own body. She didn't mean to look at him. She wasn't even sure she had, exactly, until she felt something shift in her chest. A low, unhurried pull. The kind that arrives before your brain does. A magnetic pull, a spark circulating through your nervous system. His short hair glistens red in the sun, with a brown undertone, along with his beard trimmed close to his face. Blue framed sunglasses cover his eyes, a somewhat aquiline nose is sprinkled with freckles, whilst an enigmatic smile reveals white spotless teeth.

The other one, slightly taller than Gracie— snags something in her memory that she doesn't desire to get hold of. Middle school, Social Media, Stalking, Obsessing. “Ugh, not that guy.” He glances in her direction but she looks away, quickly. His negative energy penetrates her mind, like a heavy weight, pressuring somber, inner destruction, escalated aggression, and hate.

She replaces the nozzle then walks inside to grab snacks and drinks for the drive down to the beach. Gracie emerges from the artic convenience store out into the heat.

Gracie gives Gunner a moment to walk, stretch his legs and sprint some in a grassy area. The two men are talking to each other, not looking at her. She and Gunner return to the white high roof sprinter van. Gracie starts the engine.

She guides the van onto Bandera Road heading towards 1604 and soaks in the view of Helotes. Old buildings, she recalls from childhood mixed with new stone and stucco architecture. The various restaurants and shops appear busy, as the parking lots are packed. She drives on to the highway taking the route which leads to the beach.

Coastal Air, breezes, water, ocean, salty-air, and sand. Is all she thinks. Gracie is living in the moment, cruising with Gunner by her side, her best friend.

A couple of hours later, Gracie takes a break at a truck stop to let Gunner play in the dog park for a little while.

Gracie skims over the dating app some more to scope out the available men, she hits the like button on a few. “Gunner, we will see what happens with this. Maybe I will find me a nice man, and maybe I won’t.”

The break is short lived since the temperature is about eighty-eight degrees. Gracie takes Gunner back in the van as they are almost there. She turns the ignition key; it clicks. “Oh no, Gunner the van does not want to start. I will have to see if I can jumpstart it. It is way too hot to be stuck right now.” Gracie pulls out her jumpstart machine and it starts back up. “Gunner we will need to have the battery checked before we go to the beach, just to ensure this will not happen again. I do not want to get stuck at the beach.” Soon thereafter, Gracie pulls up to an auto part store to have the battery assessed. It seems it is low on charge and should be replaced. So, Gracie has a new battery installed by a worker at the auto parts store. They are back on the road heading towards the beach.

Gracie drives to her favorite part of the beaches and carefully navigates down the beach road to find a parking spot. It seems crowded. The beach allows parking on the sand right up to the shore, as long as the vehicle displays a parking permit. There are numerous families and groups of people in the water or along the shore. Gracie finds a spot with space surrounding her, people are parked further away. She places Gunner on the tie out so he can roam around and play in the water. The German Shepard runs into the water, splashing about, swimming against the waves. Gracie observes him before joining him.

About an hour has passed by, Gracie’s waist length golden brown hair is drenched from swimming with Gunner, her pink two piece bikini remains damp whilst beads of water trickle down her slightly tanned toned physique. A silver mustang pulls up near her, tires roll over the cakey sand, the car stops, the engine cuts off. A slightly tall man around six feet steps out, then a German shepherd appears from the car. A loud rumbling twang voice reaches Gracie’s ears over the rushing ocean waves, “Hi ma’am is your dog friendly? Would it be ok for our dogs to play?” The woman yells back embodying Texas twang, “Sure that is fine!” Gunner and his new friend, splash and frolic near the shoreline, sinking their bodies and rising in the waves, saturating their tricolored coats.

Gracie focuses on Gunner, then glances at the man, fiddling with sticks, and digging a hole in the sand. She stands barefoot, toes uniting with the sand, relaxed in a free and easy way; like her spirit as the wind blows her wild and wet golden brown locks.

The man pours lighter fluid over the little logs and sticks he rummaged for moments ago. The click of a hand held blue and black lighter, blue to purple flames surround the igniting logs, spreading out to a dark orange to red. Crackling is barely heard as the Ocean waves roar. Stepping away from the self made out, the man stands erect rising to around six feet tall. His voice rumbles over the distant waves.

“Hello, my name is Paxton.” Deep. Southern. It’s music to Gracie’s ears.

“I am Gracie, nice to meet you,” She bashfully responds, resonating on his voice.

“It is nice to meet you ma’am, where are you from?”

Gracie replies with, “San Antonio, and You?”

Paxton responds to Gracie, “oh I am from near there, out in Bandera.”

“Oh ok, I have been visiting there since I was a child. I often watched the horses race at the track. It has been closed for a long time. I grew up a few towns over in the Helotes area and joyride out there quite often.” Gracie smiles politely throughout her conversation.

Paxton replies, “oh I remember that place. Ok, that is not too far from where I grew up.”

Gracie examines Paxton’s appearance as they introduce themselves. The sun hits his hair and beard bringing out the reddened hue, as his charming smile reveals white spotless teeth. Gracie notices his slightly tall athletic physique, as his tight fitted blue shirt accentuates the underlying muscles. Paxton moves to the shoreline with Delilah, his red haired tanned legs, contract as he walks. Ocean waves splash against his lower body, wetting his green board shirts causing them to hug his body tighter, exposing his toned muscles. Well, that is neat, he is from near me.

Paxton walks from the shoreline, to his car, his reddish hair flutters in the breeze as his toes become caked with sand. The silver trunk opens, a foldable chair is quickly draped over his shoulder and a big blue cooler is waiting to be brought out, as Paxton lifts, Gracie smiles dreamily at his muscles contracting, while her western sun hat bearing seashells around the band shades her face.

Paxton squats down while lowering the blue cooler on the sand, turning his head towards Gracie; he asks, “I’m going to barbeque do you want some?”

“Well, what are you cooking? I am starting to get hungry!” She responds.

“Chicken marinated in seasoning with barbeque sauce and sausage.” Paxton replies.

“Mmmm, that sounds good, do you need any sides, I have some in my van in the fridge.” Gracie mentions.

“Sure, what are the sides you have?” The man inquires with a smile on his face, his sunglasses still cover his eyes, causing a nagging mystery for Gracie.

“I have spinach and veggies for salad, non-fat dressing, I can make whole grain mac and cheese with fat free cheese as well. Maybe some cole slaw, broccoli, what would you like?” Gracie asks.

“You decide ma’am,” says Paxton with a charming smile. Taking a peak at her athletic physique here and there, a smile forms each time, as his sunglasses cover his eyes.

Small clear plastic tubs behold cheesy pasta, spinach, cucumbers, tomatoes, shredded carrots and onions.

“I’m going to keep the salad in the fridge until we are ready to eat it.” A black bottle of wine fits nicely in Gracie’s right hand, the gold and blue label rests below her thumb. Paxton nods in acknowledgement.

“Paxton, would you like some wine?” Gracie asks, while carrying a foldable chair from her van on her shoulder.

“I’ll have some wine, sure, do you need help with all that?” Paxton reaches for a foldable table Gracie has left beside the van.

The German Shepard’s are restful, laying in the sand, not really moving, just breathing, dark amber eyes still open, squinting from the breeze. A desirable landscape stretches in front of Gracie feasting her eyes as the sun begins to set. The sun reflects on the blue sea, as it fades for the night, transpiring orange and pink to where light blue used to be. Paxton lifts up his sunglasses as the sun causes his emerald whiskey eyes to sparkle in the sun. Gracie takes notice, her green amber eyes peer deep into his, as if reading him by his eyes. Empathetic and soulful. He seems fulfilled within and perhaps happy in life.

Two chicken breasts bake smothered in seasoning, and barbeque sauce in a portable barbeque pit, releasing the aroma of barbeque into the air, which Gracie happily breathes.

“Paxton, do you like travelling?” To her surprise, the question causes some excitement and thrill in Paxton. He smiles and says, “Absolutely, I have been to forty-four states.”

“Oh, Awesome I have been to all the states except Alaska. I plan to visit there soon, maybe in six months. Maybe try it out for a year or so. I have been living on the road for years and getting by with a travel blog. It has been wonderful!” Gracie discusses with a pleasant expression on her face.

“Great, hmm Alaska I have not been there yet, I’m thinking of moving to Hawaii soon in about six months.” Paxton replies with a grin, exposing his white spotless teeth.

“Do you like cold weather,” asks Gracie inquisitively.

“I like warm weather, Hawaii is warm, tropical, has mountains and the sea.” The man replies with a dreamy distant voice, as if he is thinking of being in Hawaii right now.

“Oh, how neat! Gracie says, covering up the disappointment for his lack of desire for cold weather. She goes into her van with her glass of wine to grab the salad, as Paxton removes the meat from the grill. I guess he could be a temporary romance before I move to Alaska, hmm he does not like cold weather. He is not for long term.

Gracie emerges, Paxton believing her hands look full grabs the large wooded salad bowl and dressing from her hands, “Here ma’am, I will help you with that.” Gracie cheeks redden as she smiles, “Oh, thank you Paxton, that is very helpful.”

Sitting down to eat, in between bites, Paxton asks “what kind of music do you like?”

“All kinds, country, classical, jazz, pop, and some hip hop. What about you?” she replies.

“I like country music, do you mind if I play some? The sound of the ocean waves kissing the shore is pleasant and peaceful, but I would also like some music on.” Paxton asks Gracie respectfully.

“Sure, that will be nice.” The fire Paxton initiated is still burning strong , flames of red and orange reach the edge of the pit, dancing around, whilst the sky darkens over creating a starry moonlit dinner, as waves rush, roar, and splash. The air cooler to about the seventies with a cool breeze. Twang guitar music adds to the tone, creating country vibes.

The meal has subsided, Paxton asks Gracie, “Do you want to make s’mores?”

Gracie smiles, and says, “Sure.”

Paxton brings out the ingredients for s’mores then hands Gracie a stick. The bag of marshmallows are opened, creating a swishing sound while leaking the light aroma of powdered sugar and whipped vanilla bean. She places two white fluffy marshmallows on her stick, feeling the squish between her slender fingers, like little pillows. Paxton then punctures his marshmallows to slide on the stick. Concentrating on the marshmallows roasting over the fire pit. The flame burning blueish purple closer to the logs to reddish orange further away. The fire crackles, as ocean waves roar ahead of them. Paxton shifts the wood, red orange amber particles shoot upwards from the logs remaining in the pit. Gracie’s marshmallow catches fire, and she quickly blows it out. “Well, that is nicely charred now.” Paxton chuckles at Gracie, as he continues to slowly roast his, not letting the flame catch it. Gracie makes her s’mores by placing the marshmallow between the chocolate square and graham crackers, then slides the stick out from the marshmallow. Performing this twice as she roasts two marshmallows. Gracie sips her wine, then turns her gaze to Paxton silently admiring him, waiting for him to finish. Gracie observes his lightly freckled face, noticing non bushy eyebrows, high narrow cheekbones, his nose medium sized somewhat aquiline, with a curved bridge, and a strong jawline covered by his beard. He is an attractive man. Paxton notices her brief gaze, looks kindly into her eyes and smiles charmingly “You do not have to wait for me, to eat your s’mores.”

Gracie smiles warmly at Paxton, “I just thought I should wait for you.”

“You are a sweet woman for being considerate of me.” The man responds in a deep southern voice causing a jolt to Gracie’s heart.

Gunner is resting next to Paxton’s dog. Also, a German Shepard, Delilah. What a ladylike yet simple name.

“How old is Delilah?” Gracie asks, with a curious expression on her face.

“She just turned two.” He replies while he stares at Delilah.

“Aww, she is so pretty resting next to Gunner. They seem to like each other. Is she fixed or are you going to breed her? Gunner is purebred and I decided not to have him fixed in case I wanted to let him be a stud. He is already six though.” Gracie discusses.

“Oh, I have not fixed her with that in mind. Yes, Delilah is a beauty. She is my sweet girl.” Paxton looks adoringly at his dog, as he puts his s’more together. “My s’mores are ready to be devoured!”

Gracie takes another sip of wine before taking a bite of her s’mores. “Mmm, these are delicious, I have not had s’mores in a while, but I do make them from time to time.”

Paxton’s eyes smile at Gracie.