Dirt Roads to Dust

Living in rural Texas means dirt roads are a part of everyday life. You see, asphalt and concrete can’t be used everywhere. So lots of folks have a love/hate relationship with our extremely necessary dirt roads. Vehicles need to get to homes, stock ponds, barns and such. These gravel and caliche roads make remote areas much more accessible. That’s the “love” part of the relationship. The “hate” part comes with the side effects. Like, don’t come to my house to do a white glove test. Oh, a tan glove might be all right, since the caliche on our road is of that color. Between vehicles driving by and the ever-blowing wind, massive amounts of dust escapes from the road and ends up elsewhere...everywhere...especially on my coffee table.

At what point does the dust become dirt, you ask? The best answer is this: when company is expected. One then notices the dusty surfaces are indeed dirty and quickly breaks out various cleaning apparatus. Such a realization came over me recently when I had the opportunity to interview with a TV news reporter from Dallas, Texas. I thought we’d meet somewhere like a restaurant or Dairy Queen and do the story. Oh, no. She wanted to bring the film crew to my HOUSE! In a panic, I spent the majority of two days bulldozing the dirt from my living area. Man, it was close, but at last the dust/dirt was removed...from that room. I didn’t even try to clean the other rooms – and certainly didn’t care by then. I hate housework.

Then what happened, you ask? Late in the evening before the interview, the TV thing got cancelled. I was disappointed, sure. I mean, I’m a writer and am always looking for good publicity. The upside was the living room was clean. Well, less dirty. Really, what’s the point? Dust one day and before you turn around those surfaces are dusty again.  So, wait until that dinner party or your mom is coming to visit, do a thrash cleaning and call it good. In the meantime we can pretend it’s all right NOT to clean – just leave the dust in a uniform coating creating a natural appearance. That may or may not work out for you. I’m willing to keep up the charade.
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If the dirt outside would just stay outside, the only dirt inside would be the dirt we bring in ourselves. That dirt we can pretty well control. The dust that filters in unseen is a completely different...dirt. Oh well, our dirt roads are practical, easily maintained, and even picturesque. Isn’t it a shame that same dirt in our houses isn’t so great?

One nice day, I was sitting on the back porch, just rocking in the double glider and letting the wind try to blow away my worries. The bank account was dangerously low and I had no hope of any additional income for months. Tears glistened in my eyes as I noticed the other rocker was moving back and forth in time with me. The wind, I thought. We get a lot of wind up here on the hill. But I felt something, a presence and thought of my friend Nanci, whose life was claimed by a horrible cancer some seven years prior.

I thought about us in college, how we had such fun, we supported each other during emotional upheavals and had that special relationship where we could make jokes naturally and spontaneously. Life moved on and we lost touch through the years. Then I was writing a book. Write what you know, they say. I wrote about my college days, the adventures of riding up and down the drag, getting chased by boys, honking and flying through parking lots. With the advent of the Internet, I found her address and sent a letter hoping she would email or call me.

She did email me, and told how her husband left her with four kids, how she fell at work one day and it was discovered she had Stage 4 Inflammatory breast cancer. She didn’t want to meet since she was undergoing chemo and didn’t feel up to it. Over the next few weeks, I sent her blocks of chapters of the book as I wrote them, and she reacted so positively I knew we could reconnect.

So, one day, we did. Another old friend and I met her at a restaurant. The smiles we shared that day opened the door for a renewed friendship. We saw each other often after that. Two important moments we had: riding in the car one day she said she didn’t know if we would be able to talk, with she not being the same person she was. But she found out she was that same person. Then, a day or two before she died we had the chance to tell each other "I love you." I miss her so often. Suddenly I had a thought. Bring her to life after death in a screenplay. It will be wonderful. We can be silly again and crack jokes and I can feel her presence again.
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I wrote that screenplay. It won an award at a film festival. Since then I've learned, just like with books and films, you can add screenplays to the list of creative works for which thousands of people are vying to get attention. Oh well, it is an accomplishment and another trophy on the mantle. So, I’m still in financial straits, but I have Nanci in my heart and that is priceless.