Late last Tuesday afternoon Susie and I found ourselves sliding our rented Saturn carefully off of Route 82 onto Emma road, just across the busy highway from the abandoned old livery and general store where "Emma" reportedly operated a brothel on the second floor, and pushing ever further up into the canyons heading for Mt. Sopris.
We stopped short of climbing Mt. Sopris -- at over 12,000 feet and no road it would have been a challenge to say the least -- and settled instead for Stan and Margie's home.The trip was over. The journey was about to begin.
We hadn't seen Stan and Margie since last fall, before we went back to Paris in September and so we spent the rest of the evening sipping wine and catching up on all the news.
Stan and Margie fixed a grilled flank steak salad with roasted yams and Susie and I just slid off into the quiet dark of the night, soft music in the background, concerns about past and future dimmed in the peace and ease of the present.
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