Sitting calmly upon a stretch of driftwood in the stone wash of the Rio Grande, the old man revealed his depth of preparation for this road trip by describing the significant historical contribution of this river, this border, has had upon the peoples of both neighboring countries.
He remembered then that one of the agreements for the old man “riding along” with us on this trip would be that he would “study up” on some history to share. And he did from time to time, remember. “The full name means "big river of the north" in Spanish,” the old man would begin. “In Mexico, however, the river is called Rio Bravo del Norte, meaning "wild river of the north." He listened while staring down at the endless stones as if trying to find the right one. “Hmmm,” he would contribute.
The rented RV was suitable enough, serving as a respite from the heat of the sun, and the chill when it passed. But they were not there to stay protected. They were there to be exposed. To expose a truth that was dormant, just below the surface, and waiting to reveal its sudden and deteriorating impact. But that could wait a little longer.
One evening he hung back with the old man in the camper while the older and oldest walked to town to “rustle things up.” Later, while deep in his bag, he would over hear them retracing their evening through a barrage of drunken tales. “We should go back there and buy that bar, and then move down here to Alpine, Tx,” the older brother would repeat, as he apparently had been ranting about on the stumble back to camp. “Did you see that one woman dance,” the oldest asked. “That’s called maximizing your stimuli,” the oldest added. “I got her number dude”, the older laughed. And then they both just kept laughing and jerking around while the old man dreamt, and he feigned sleep, enjoying hearing the older ones engaging life.
In the morning the old man was up with a clear head and ready to go. Bagging up the empty’s he asked what was planned for today. “More of the same Dad,” he replied, “More food, more beer, more miles, and more smiles,” he added. But every day was a new day for the old man, because yesterday was gone and forgotten.
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