The Road to Yosemite, January 2nd

This day has gone on for two days,
never sleeping. Wide open eyes
watch the time traipse round the room
until it's time. The start didn't stop at the end
of yesterday, but I begin it all again today.

Rising with the sunrise, I stuff
afterthoughts into my backpack
and get the dog. I load us into the car,
in the back behind my parents,
like extra luggage. We're just as quiet.

We drive, but first we break for bagels.
The men in the shop smile and joke,
one mentions the New Year.
I feel that they too know this
first day stretched into two.
It's a new beginning, an early morning
early in the year that came just in time.
We all need a clean slate.

We hit the road again.
The sky, sensing the change, opens up
like an opportunity, a door of dreams.

My parents go over groceries in the front,
the meaningless dialogue of happy people
that means everything. I listen to their voices
without the words, leaning into my pillow.
At last, I am ready for rest. The last sight
before I close my eyes is a gray sky
stretching on like this day that's never put to bed,
even when, with a blanket over my head,
I sleep.

I wake to a whirlwind of tumbleweeds
tossing, blundering, rolling down the road.
Dad brakes and swerves to evade them.
I look out the front window at the windstorm
and see a video game where we loose our last life
if we crash, and I just laugh.

I drift into a doze.

I'm roused from my repose to rain.
It paints us human Dalmations,
drops dotting our clothes as we run
into a fast food place for lunch.
The downpour continues as we drive
carefully through the highway spray.
I have a vague view of vineyards
through the tears falling sideways
across my window until, with
my still veiled vision, I mistake
the mountains and the mist.

I know we have reached them as the road
winds high and the rain turns to snow.
They say to us that we need chains
and Dad battles the wet and cold
while we, the women (and dog), sit still.
I feel useless as we watch him struggle;
chivalry is so strange. Finally he succeeds
and we make our cautious way upward.

As though through an unseen door,
a railway platform or an old wardrobe,
we pass on into a magical world.
Snowflakes falling soft strengthen
and band together to build up banks
of white wonder beside the road.
Trees towering tall like lovely ladies
are wearing a wardrobe of spun silk
and diamonds, small like sparkling sand.

Down this road our cabin awaits us
like an old friend, squat and stoic, familiar.
Like a sigh, it lightens the weight of worry.
Even though the wooden walls hold a surprise -
the power is down -we don't mind the dark.
We set a fire in the hearth and settle down
together around its warmth.
We are happy here.

I fall asleep surrounded by family
in front of a flickering fire,
and at last the long first day
ends.