Hearts come first in Concho, Arizona

It’s the time of the morning in Concho, Arizona when I think about yesterday and the reports from the news, radar, and friends that said, “It was coming.” So, I look toward the early darkness and struggling light from the stars that perhaps illuminate the truth about what is and what is to come. A blank dark sky above as I barely step out from the glass door, a freezing blast of cold air, and frozen water covers the ground. This is rural America. The weather report can’t capture my footsteps or the sound of the school bus and the driver whose arm shadows a friendly wave.

An imminent storm on January 20th that opens the door to the cold America or the new America. Perhaps storms and gossip of discomfort are good for people, the land and the complacent brain. Some are saying it will last through the weekend. The storm that is. The storm from the weather. The storm from political dissention is a different type of “it” that is coming. In the mix of snowflakes and the Whitehouse, I remember the faces of the local friends and their hearts. One neighbor who gave me fresh string beans that are still soaking in cold water. Our political ideas take the back seat to how funny we are together and the meals we share so often. The weather will change. The political climate will adjust, or not, and there will always be things we can’t control. But then the heart now that’s a different story altogether. Kareena Maxwell 

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