A friend recently wrote this to me, “… as you ponder the meaning of life, don’t forget to factor in the meaning that you yourself make.” And there it is: Every single one of us has a place. We each and every one of us have an effect. I am certain. And that cannot be insignificant.
When I look back at this, now, I wonder that I was ever so certain. It stands in such stark contrast to my current pessimism. But I was positive. Enough to get me to leave my home of eight years in Utah, to buy land in a state I’d only visited once and to build a new home and a new life on my own in New Mexico.
Nick is the kind of guy who is all too rare these days. He loves his work, he’s very smart and good at what he does, and he’s honest. His office walls are covered with thank you letters and photos from grateful clients who found themselves in trouble out in the middle of the Utah desert and who, like us, were saved by Nick.
Stepping out of the trailer into the darkness of predawn, the stars still shining in the morning sky, an owl high on the cliffs above us softly hooting…
Although Mabel was a wealthy New York heiress born in 1879, we do share this: We both came to New Mexico with rather cavalier attitudes about it.
… listening to birdsong as I hang out the laundry (the larks are back and nesting, mapping out their territories in song, so it is particularly splendid right now), the toads croaking their hearts out in the little acequia that runs through my land…
Haunted wouldn’t be a term I would use. I don’t think when one loved as much as Mabel did, when one believed in things greater than herself and was committed to creating something beautiful, something better, for those of us coming along behind, those people don’t haunt.