open spaces

we drove up from the center of Zacatecas to the Texas/Mexico border yesterday. As the road became wider and the land more open, I felt my soul open up. I hadn't realized how much I had missed the clouds and the wide sky and the green-gold grass on the sides of the highway. I wished that I hadn't already purchased plane tickets but could instead rent a car and keep on driving. I'd drive right through the great plains, through Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, and the Dakotas. what a way to go home. I'd see the seasons rewind, from the harvests already in progress in the south to the still growing and green oceans near my house. I could merge onto Route 281 and stay on it, jumping off right before Canada. Driving 70+ mph, watching the land unroll before me, letting the memories come back, listening and thinking and praying. That's how I'd like to go home.

We're still sitting here, waiting, on the tip of Texas. My flight doesn't leave until tomorrow but we wanted to leave time in case of traveling troubles. I'm not used to the water-saturated, super-heated air and I feel lethargic and annoyed outside. Now a tropical storm is rolling in and the rain comes in gusts and cools the air.

hot chocolate

I love hot chocolate. I grew up with it, putting mugs of 2% milk in the microwave and heaping spoonfuls of Nestle Quik powder into the steaminess. It is a decided comfort item for me, as the small amounts of caffeine won't keep me awake but the warm liquid soothes and calms. On those evenings in high school when I made my own dinner you could often see a mug of hot chocolate and a plate with eggs and bacon and toast beside my homework. That's still one of my culinary favorites.

In college I tried to like the sludge that came out of those cocoa machines and I tried to like the SwissMiss packets added to hot water. But nothing compares to hot, almost scalding, creamy milk - so hot so that the chocolate blends in with a particular rich flavor and so that you have to drink it slowly. Made on the stove also increases the restfulness of the event; slowly stirring so the milk won't burn, thinking about the day, winding down.

I remember when we got our new microwave and I put the milk in, surprised when it came out after four minutes all frothy and boiling over. I'd never paid any attention to microwave strength before but suddenly it became imperative to find the perfect amount of time to get the temperature just right.

I've tried putting in mint or cinnamon, but the perennial favorite continues to be just plain hot chocolate. So rich.

--Please remember this if you ever invite me over to spend the night.