Every Distance is not Near

Part of the job of motel desk clerk on a scenic route is giving directions and talking about sights along the way.

Today two motorcyclists came into the office mid day to do just that. They'd wanted to see the Kodachrome Basin but somehow missed the turn off.

From there we talked about their travel route, and they said they were next going to Canon City and then on to Santa Fe.

"You're not taking the Interstate, are you?"

The older man looked at me.

"Eh....don't go Interstate. Go back through the canyon to Salida--it looks completely different on the return trip--and go over Poncha Pass, down through Alamosa, and Taos--and be sure to visit Michael's Kitchen--and then on into Santa Fe. You won't regret it. The Rio Grande River Gorge and that windy drive south along the Rio Grande....nothing like it. Something you gotta see."

"Well, what about route numbers?"

I started rattling off the route numbers.

"You sound like you've been everywhere."

"I have. I've been all over the Southwest."

In my 30s and 40s, I had a recurring dream (one of several) where places far away seemed only a short drive. I always woke with the realization that distance is relative.

In that moment, talking with that man, I recognized the fruition of that dream, which gave me hope about my other dreams.