At the top of Sauk Mountain she opened her notebook against the breeze. The breeze came from the north which promised good weather. Then she looked to the north and saw, not so far away, the saddle of Mount Baker. And just below her on the other side was Sauk Lake and up here all she could hear was the free wind in her ears and when she breathed out she breathed life and when she breathed in she was brought closer to me.
Sitting on a flat rock the, warmth of the sun not ruined by the breeze, she wished she was in L.A. still, even in this paradise it was not quite for her–fumbled at the zip string of her bag, a red backpack that resembled a tote bag. It was perfect for vagabond trips. From inside she took a pen, nothing special, just a cheap ballpoint, and her notebook which was also nothing special except for the words she would write within it.
On the rock, on Sauk Mountain, in the Cascades, in Washington, in her notebook, she wrote these words. . .
Earlier in the day, but after breakfast she got in her small compact Toyota and drove North. She entered I-5 near Mill Creek, a suburb of Seattle. She wore her leggings that were warm but also thin and dried and let her sweat on hikes. She also wore some shorts and a loose sweater which had sleeves that came down to her thumbs and a faded knit pattern near the neck. Also around her neck the wore a bronze chain that had a small circle, a small moon sliced in halves. These halves move independently of each other, but are both guided by the chain. The half moons on this chain are like two sisters being guided like controlling parents. She is one of those sisters.
As she merges into light traffic on I-5 North she takes up her phone and with deft touches selects the camera. She snaps a picture of herself driving. The angle is low and she looked tall and with her hair in pigtails a little like a school teacher–a sexy school teacher and that was alright with her. Then she closed the camera and glancing down, just for an instant, she thumbed the astrology app she used. But then she turned off the phone. She’d read her horoscope later. Though she’d never put much stock in astrology it was still fun to think about.
When she came to Burlington she took a right onto HWY 20 which would take her toward the cascades. Through Sedro-Woolley and later a tiny town called Concrete Washington, she didn’t stop the whole drive. When she came to Sauk Mountain Rd she took it and the trees towered up around the road and the dirt she drove over became potted and with a bang and a smash and nicked of the underside of her car she saw, from the corner of her eye, one hubcap making its escape into the side of the mountain the treacherous road followed.