Adobe walls get cracks in them, as do towns after we've lived in them for a time. I've begun to notice the "cracks" in Taos, and New Mexico in general, more than I notice the things I once loved about it all.
I woke up at four in the morning, and wandered out to the living room to look at the night sky. The neighbors had turned off their porch light for once, and the stars were blazing in the desert darkness. I was actually glad to have this bit of insomnia, so I could sit in the window seat and watch some more of the Big Meteor Shower that happens each year in August. I was rewarded with more than a dozen shooting stars in just a few minutes. As I sat there in the quiet darkness, I decided it might be good to spend the next year, our last in Taos, paying attention to the wall more than the cracks. I no longer need to concern myself with crooked local politics, ignorant dog owners, or beer bottles thrown from car windows. I don't have to fix it. I couldn't even if I wanted to. Taos wants to keep it's cracks... maybe that's how the light gets in. So I'll see if I can give myself this year to view Taos with fresh eyes again, watching for the beauty of the place, and overlooking the cracks.
Plans are rolling along, taking on a momentum of their own. We drove to Santa Fe yesterday to look at travel trailers. We actually think we can function, and even work, in an 18-footer. At least for a short time. This would be just too small, but isn't it cute?
And a trip to Santa Fe isn't complete without a meal at the Plaza Restaurant. It's one of the things I might miss about New Mexico. I'd better learn to make good red and green chile before we leave. And sopapillas. Even though we feel "done" here, there are things we'll want to take along with us to Oregon. A few favorite recipes, to be sure. And Rick even knows how to make adobe bricks and turn them into a wall and a fireplace. The big night sky will be there waiting. We just have to find neighbors who don't need flood lights by their front doors.