Anyways, here’s a picture of some waterfall an incredible human showed me as I was making my way out of Quebec. It is called Emerald Falls, I think? Magdalena, help me.
We stared at the water for hours.
That’s something I can do now, is stare at random things for hours. But here’s the story about the store:
It was Walmart. I’m writing to you from cities; which hurt. But family is here. This is good, and ohh so nice. I picked up my sister’s car keys two hours ago and went to run evening errands, and noticed on the way that her left headlight was out.
Replace headlight bulb. Welp, guess we gotta go to the Walmart. Walmart has headlights. Huzzah.
Then I walked into the store; and my brain went all fuzzy, and I got lost.
I was walking past the self-checkout areas just inside the door. I looked up at the people there; and I suddenly had absolutely no idea where I was. It was one Walmart, and it looked exactly like all the thousands of Walmarts that exist somewhere in the world, and I hadn’t walked to it. I had traversed the darkness in a tiny metal box, with spinning things on its axles, and explodey things under the hood, and bright light things all attached (although one less bright thing than technically legal I bet).
Walking settles your inner self into the places you’ll go.
That sounds all hokey, but I guess in different terms, I build a map in my head as I walk. Usually, there’s a framework before I begin; ideas of roads and mountains and towns and trails, which I get from paper or digital maps. Walking, I fill it in with richness and that odd rock over there and this span of houses one of which has lovely humans whom I’ve met and maybe even find food here, growing under this decaying tree. Then I know where I am, if I’ve been paying attention. (Don’t always know where I am, but usually I do know how I got there…)
I walked a long while across mountains, adding to this map in my head. Here I am. Each place has its place in my brain, and in my tiny spatial mapping sense, it all makes sense.
Here, I am not. Here, I have hopped. Here… I have uprooted, and tumbled thousands of miles south. Here…
I don’t know where this is.
I turned away from the people at the self-checkouts, still dazed, and walked away. Picked up milk; shampoo; replacement headlight bulb.
Drove home. Replaced headlight.
Here is a picture of bread.
I don’t know where I’ll be in my head once this whole yablingus is through, kids; but Imma have one heck of a crazy map in mah brainstems alright. It’ll be great. This is fine, everything is fine. We’re all good. Just keep earning money, ok, self? And plotting. Plotting is great. We all love the plotting. All of us.
Hold up a minute, self. “…us?”