we will no longer roam

There are a number of Arizona Ashes surrounding the Smith's parking lot, and as I walked home from the bus stop this evening, the leaves were crisp and rippling off of branches as the wind disturbed their peace. I got caught in a rain yellow, the clear sounds of fall all around me as I continued home. The sound of skittering leaves faded as I walked through the ghost town strip mall, an abandoned parking lot full of boarded up windows, weeds and potholes.

I learned from the residents here that White Rock used to be thriving, with a movie theater, bowling alley, two grocery stores, and more, but there had been a decline. Los Alamos (of which White Rock is technically a subdivision of) has experienced a similar decline, but has bounced back in recent years, with a variety of restaurants and stores available. White Rock has very few restaurants (2, maybe 3?) and only a smattering of other services. No fast food places can stay open, because there are no employees available... All the teenagers get enough money from their Los Alamos National Lab-paid parents, and with the increase of gas prices in the past 2 years, nobody from Santa Fe wants to drive all the way up the hill for a minimum wage job. So, the result is that White Rock is mainly a bedroom community, with a few gas stations, tiny library and beautiful parks.

On my way home I was reading a book, taking my time strolling through the suburban desert. I kept feeling small drops of water, but a quick glance up from the pages revealed blue skies and no threat. 200 yards from our apartment, the drops came more regularly, and it was then I realized that directly behind me a grey cloud was approaching. The cloud was friendly, not threatening, and the rain coming from it was hardly a bother, even to the pages of my book.

Arriving home I had a rollicking good time playing on the floor with the babies, who loved my cashmere sweater. I like it, too.qww