Into The Cold

Prineville, Oregon

The stack of postcards and letters are placed in the mailbox, flag up. It feels good to reach back to faces and families I have walked away from; to affirm that they mattered, matter, and like Jessica Monday's gift of a thin red string she tied to my pack so long ago, I write to keep the string strong and avoid floating off into space from all those embraced.
"Jesse, before you go will you bless me," asks Rev. Janet Warner in gentle morning voice as she steps onto her frosted porch where I am saddling up to the travois and pulling straps snug on CrowDog? For two days I have been the guest of Janet and her husband Dan on the northern hill of Prineville. In all of my miles I have prayed blessings on many that have lightened my load, even if they just smiled. It has always been a whisper I quietly offer up into the miles of in between. This is the first time I am asked to bless and I feel a warm glow of energy come up from my chest though 30 degree air is moving into my clothes, emptying my pockets of wood stove warmth. I am honored by her request, and feel like I should close my eyes and talk softly, but of course I don't. My mouth stutters to a start before the feeling settles down. Janet saw me walking 16 miles out of town while she was busy heading west in her sedan days ago. The roads she drove became slick miles past my rest point so when she gave up her plans and shehe returned to talk to me. This is rare out in this open land...nearly unheard of by a woman. "I saw you walking earlier, and your load...I began thinking, surely this is a man with a story." Janet beamed up at me with her light energy spilling out the car window. Walking slowly to the car after setting down the can of ice cold hash I'd been eating in bliss being desperate for fat, my knotted leg mussels took me to the road. My story tumbles out effortlessly now so that no longer do I have to listen to my own words. My eyes are on a raven asking to glean from my lunch. Inside my shirts the sweat turns cold. After a few minutes I am offered an overnight at the Warner home some 16 miles away and it is afternoon. Not today I think to myself. At first I wonder if I will ever push in the phone number because I know nothing of Prineville yet. Food, washing clothes, the usual taxes wait to be paid. Thankful for a contact and a warm hand in mine saying a kind good-bye eases legs taking me back to sit on the earth and rattle the can with a spoon.
The miles do take me to Janet's home, shared meals, all of my needful tasks accomplished topped with two nights sleep indoors. My heart receives the spiritual conversations I hunger for like sweet fat. New friends enter my life, to include Cindy who blesses me with a gift bags fulls of treasures to eat on my journey, Smartwool socks and the platter of treats she created to polish my ribs with joy. Wow!
Will I bless You? Janet is the woman at the well, the land owner that calls in a fattened bull to be dressed for my arrival with overflowing dishes of sweet breads perfuming the air. I tell her this and how I pray for all that she has to bloom, to be enriched. Words sometimes crumble on front porches as I reach for straps that giggle and run behind my back while I turn and turn after them. In a land where I walked tired and alone I was given warmth and prayers. I will bless Janet and her home as I walk the road to Sisters. My words will be honed in my fingers as roads move under step, knowing through all of my troubles I am being lifted up, comforted and have never...never been forgotten.