Saturday, November 28
We’re camped in Loners’ Acres, away from the main section of Midland. We and another woman camping closer to the mountains are the only ones over here. I can hardly believe our good fortune!
Quiet days and quiet nights for an entire week! Wonderful!
~ ~ ~
The weather for the past week has been fabulous, too, warm enough for shorts and sandals.
This morning, however, it’s cold, in the high 30s with breeze.
Mid-morning the crew and I attempt to sit where the sun hits the blue mat and the heat reflects off the fiberglass of the Best Little Trailer. It’s just barely warm enough to be comfortable and then that cool breeze hits me in the kidneys. Too cold! Bridget doesn’t seem to mind. Reggie looks unhappy, even though he’s wearing his green fleece vest.
“I think we need to go inside where it’s warm.”
That’s why I didn’t take any new photos.
We’ve been inside all day except for a short drive to the trash bins on the other side of Midland LTVA and a few quick walks.
The photos in this post were taken for previous posts.
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Hey, how about a story?
Sure! Why not? Everybody loves a story, right?
This isn’t my story. It was told to me by Henry (not his real name), the plaid shirt-sunglasses-and-ball-capped guy that welcomed me and the crew to Midland shortly after we arrived.
What I’m about to share with you (Henry said it was okay) is something that actually happened to him.
This event made quite an impression upon him.
It made such an impression that he thought to describe it to me, these many years hence, as we chewed the fat, he in the driver’s seat and me standing alongside the window of his pick-up.
Henry begins his story . . . .
“Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A long time ago. I used to hustle the pool halls. No, that’s wrong. I used to let them hustle me at pool. You know how that goes.”
“Yeah, that old trick. Go on,” I urge him.
“I’d do pretty good, but I’d be worried about getting out of there. Kind of dangerous. So I always said that I’d play, but I had to leave when it was time because my wife, well, my wife promised to cut off my — I’ll clean it up for you — she’d cut off my private parts if I didn’t come home on time.”
Henry pauses a moment and looks at me.
I nod, and he continues, “That gave me an excuse to get out of there, you see.”
“Okay . . . .”
He’s warmed up for story-telling now and he runs with it.
“This one night I did pretty good. I manage to leave with the money, but I’m real nervous. I’m walking home, it’s dark, I’m looking around, scared about those guys back at the tavern. I know they aren’t happy.”
“All of a sudden here’s this dog. A rottweiler. I don’t see him walk up to me. He’s just there, walking right beside me on the sidewalk, and he’s HUGE.”
Henry moves his head side to side, recalling the dog.
“I never seen a dog that huge. Must’ve been over 200 pounds. Big dog. We don’t go far and there they are, the guys, coming out of an alley ahead of us. Five of them. They stand in the sidewalk, just stand there blocking our way. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Henry stares across the desert, seeing that night, long ago.
“The dog begins to growl. He growls — I can’t explain it — he growls this awful growl and he’s looking right at those guys. Then the sidewalk begins to tremble . . . .”
“WHAT?” I interrupt. “The sidewalk trembles?”
“Yeah! I’ve been in an earthquake and it was something like that. The dog growls and the sidewalk trembles, and those guys freeze for a minute and then they take off. I look down and the dog is gone.”
“Whattaya’ mean, ‘the dog is gone’… He ran away?”
“No! He just goes! He disappears. Poof. Just like he came.”
Henry looks at me to see my reaction.
“Wow, that’s quite a story, Henry,” I say slowly. “Your guardian angel transformed into a rottweiler.”
“Yeah. That’s right. It was my guardian angel.”
We’re silent a moment.
“Okay, I’ve gotta’ go dump a tank.” Henry starts up the truck. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Sue. If you need anything, let us know.”
And away he goes, rumbling across the hard-packed desert floor . . . .
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NOTE: A reminder about the policy of this blog. It’s okay if you want to share your own guardian angel story. Please do not include your personal salvation testimony, Bible verses, or anything particular to your faith. When writing, keep in mind and respect that this a community of people of various beliefs. Thank you. — Sue
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