Robles del Rio
I found out over the summer that the Robles del Rio Lodge had burned down. In fact, it happened three years ago, and I had no idea until I went out of the way to visit the neighborhood. I'd never been inside before, and it seemed odd that I wouldn't get the chance now.
Would the news have hit me differently if I'd lived there when it happened? I wonder.
Over the summer we went back home and visited Juliette's parents. I took the opportunity to go back to my old town and work on my "It Forgets You" series some more. I used to come to this swimming hole a lot when I was young--it's right down the street from where one of my friends lived. I hadn't been back in years. I stopped hanging out with that friend, and then I moved away. The fence around the outside has a bunch of signs I don't remember and there's a new bench. The river is the same, though--here, at least. After all the floods and dredging and new channels, this might be the only part of the river I still recognize.
I always want to take more pictures of Juliette. She is, after all, the most important person in my life. I worry, though, that she will not like the way the pictures look. Sometimes I don't take the picture because of that, but maybe I should instead take it as an opportunity to take better pictures. She liked this one. So do I.
When I'm stopped at a red light I always find it fascinating to look at what other drivers are doing, especially if I can't see their whole faces. I don't know, maybe that's kind of creepy, but I'm always curious to guess what the person looks like from their hands or elbows or ears, to know what it is they're thinking about or where they're going. There are so many stories happening all around, all the time--in my worst moments it almost feels like I'm drowning in them, but in my best it's inspiring.