A dead battery outside Chicago, a near miss with a tornado in Nebraska. I was so thankful when I arrived safely to the hotel in Green River, Wyoming. I'd never been to Wyoming before, I hadn't expected it to be so barren. "You're in the most desolate part. The pretty part's up North," said the guy at the gas station, standing beside antlers from floor to ceiling and his dog named Chevy.
I was swept away with the wild horses I saw running through the desert, they triggered something deep inside. As I flopped on the bed in relief and delight, the wild freedom of wild horses raced through my mind. I didn't want to miss a thing about Wyoming, I only had one night. But like long ago lulled by the chase of cheetah on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, I would say I was only just resting my eyes, fully convinced that it was so.
No comments:
Post a Comment