Twenty-five years later I saw his daughter's face before me again, and it was the same face I remembered, the same clear eyes, the same sweet, somehow secretive smile. She was still slender, graceful, wraithlike, only now her hair is grey, and so I laughed at her and shook my head, again and again. It seemed surreal. I didn't know her husband Barney as well, so the effect when he emerged later from his nap was not as striking, but it still made me grin and shake my head. I so enjoyed getting to see them both again. We ate watermelon, laughed, moved in and out of the spring-fed pool. I got to meet their daughter, Corina, who was a delight--grounded, clear-eyed, kind, interested, bright. I am so pleased for them, so proud, somehow, want to emphasize what a lovely job I think they've done in raising her. (Of course, she is herself, but they had a hand in making her, or allowing her to bloom, perhaps.) Indeed, everyone there was a pleasure to meet, to talk to, to be with, and my shy self-consciousness evaporated quickly. It was good to be with people my own age. And all the young people, too, were terrific--I hadn't realized quite how much I was missing that, the pleasure of spending time with thoughtful, engaged youth. And everywhere you turned on the property there was a striking view, a quirky characteristic, an element of charm. I was taken by the row of pale blue roadrunners traipsing across the wall of Barney's shop (have they been there for decades?) and the small metal bird, wings raised, who sat near the entrance to the pool.
There was a certain mystical charm that shrouded the outing itself. I felt thrilled and honored to get to visit their property after hearing about their getaway over all these long years. And it carried a kind of mystique because of the way it had unfolded. I'd been walking to the pond one day with Auntie Christel when I first saw the sign for Chimney Ranch. I was so intrigued, so taken with the place from afar, even though you can hardly see it from the trail. I remember seeing the flag with the peace symbol billowing in the wind. I wondered if it was a retreat center of some sort, was hoping I could go stay there one day. "I'm going to Google it," I said. I was determined to discover the secret of the place. It still surprises me how very drawn I was to it. When I got home that day I must have talked to Auntie Gardi, told her about how taken I was by this place we'd seen on our walk. I couldn't believe it when she told me it must be Barney and Angelica's property, the one I’d heard about forever, for decades. And they had even been there the afternoon Auntie Christel and I passed by. How funny it would have been if they'd been out walking, if we'd met up on the trail. No doubt I would have laughed at Angelica in much the same way I did that first hour or so at the ranch. I wouldn't have believed it. I barely believe it even now as I write this. But I would have been grinning long after. I am grinning now.
