Bodega Dunes (6)

Wait what? Weren’t we just at Bodega Dunes last weekend? Yep. But we originally had reservations at Bothe Napa and those got cancelled due to fire damage. A cancellation opened up a spot at Bodega Dunes and it is never a bad idea to go to the Sonoma Coast. Unless it’s on fire, I guess. But besides that, I have yet to get tired of it.

Again, it was a great weekend. This time we took a hike over the dunes to catch what there was of a sunset on Saturday. Hiking uphill in sand is really hard by the way. Other than that, we were super lazy and that was both well earned and much appreciated.

Sunday began well, but turned into a semi panic attack. We were coming home to a Red Flag warning and possibly no electricity due to high winds and fire friendly conditions. On the surface, that already sounds kind of stressful, but it’s not like we haven’t been dealing with that for a while. This time though, as we were making fairly detailed evacuation plans, in case it came to that, I started to really stress out. I think my brain simply couldn’t process all of the competing warning signals coming in at the same time. Yes, we can stuff the cat in a box, grab the insulin and put it in Dory’s fridge, load the adult offspring into the two cars with Dory trailing one of them, and we can get to somewhere not on fire. And oh yeah, gotta make sure we have plenty of masks and hand sanitizer because of Covid. And we could stay somewhere for a good long time if need be, as long as we could figure out where the kids could sleep. And water, and dumping…. My brow furrowed so hard trying to weigh options and sift through potential dangers that it started to spasm.

But really, I think I’m just barely containing the anxiety associated with the election next Tuesday. It should be obvious to anyone reading this blog that I am not a supporter of the current occupant of the White House. And that’s an enormous understatement. I believe I have been holding my breath on some level the past four years. I know many of us have. What happens next is more than I can contemplate. There will be ugliness, and trauma, no matter the outcome, and that’s about the only thing that’s a sure bet. Camping under this regime has been more than a series of fun weekends; it is the search for tangible reminders that beauty remains in this world. Against the backdrop of emboldened human ugliness, this has been essential to survival.

Someone painted a Swastika on a house in my neighborhood this past week with the T-word scrawled underneath.

Our world has borne witness to a horrific upheaval of rage and hate and all the worst examples of human behavior. What happens Tuesday could either cement this country’s demise as a functioning nation, or begin the process of lancing some of the festering wounds in the hopes that they can be healed. Maybe. There is plenty of damage beyond repair. But there is also plenty of good out there, still fighting for its life.

We are a family struggling through the teen years. We thought we had it together, like those parents who smile sympathetically as they watch others go through hell, thinking that can never happen to them. We figure, we have solid rules, we’re strong and smart, and we’ll know what to do if things start to go sideways. But here we are, upside down, as the raged out kid shoots up heroin and grabs the car keys.

So we may go hurtling off the highway at a hundred miles an hour on Tuesday. Or maybe there will be an emergency intervention that gives us another chance to work things out. But wow, there are going to be some serious talks that will need to happen. So much therapy. On the upside, timing might coincide with the winter Covid wave and we will all have to sit in our rooms in time out again, and think hard about what we’ve done. I’m down with that.

I’m not sure it’s honest to say I have hope. Maybe I have deeply guarded hope. And not just about the outcome after Tuesday. If I have hope for anything, it is that maybe we could stop being so shitty to each other for a while. Like just for a breather.

Hang on tight friends. It’s going to be a week.