"You drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it."
- P. Coelho
Walking across the yard, 100' tape measure in hand, stretching the line between evidence cones, I wasn't expecting the the sharp pain in my Achilles tendon. Didn't expect it at all, but ... there it was. Small canid teeth sinking in. The little yap and fierce growl of the sucker-punch-bully who says, "Yeah? You wan't some of this?"
I said some words, unkind words, foul words. I instinctively lashed out with my uninjured foot. I was hoping for an "it's-up-it's-good" moment ... for a moment. Then I calmed down and tried to think of the dog's perspective. Big hairy guy, sweating in my yard. Bearded dude, just strolling around taking pictures and measuring things. Who does he think he is?
It was the perfect way to end a week of rather frustrating efforts. "May as well just cap this off with a dog bite," the universe seemed to say.
The thing is ... amid the frustration, threats, and drudgery of the week, I had some amazing moments. There were the several long yoga sessions with my friend Andrea, a lovely young lady with a shock of dreadlocks and some seriously strong wisdom, eons-old-wisdom. There was the evening at the Public House with an older salty-dog attorney, who (as it turns out) is much better at drinking than I. There were the long drives through high plains. And there were the clients, fine human beings in difficult situations.
I had dinner with my pals Rob and Lindsey the last night of my stay. They feed me when I'm on the road, out here in the Panhandle of Texas. They make me feel at home.
I could, and it surely makes for more entertaining stories, go home this afternoon and regale the home team with the trials and tribulations of field work. I probably will, in fact do some of that. But ... I'll also share stories of amazing dinners prepared by loving friends; full moon ceremonies that took me, happily, out of my comfort zone; and the desolate beauty of driving for hours across the Meseta-like-high-plains of West Texas, with it's pink sunrises and brilliant sunsets, with it's tall clouds and bluster.
For me, staying in is a matter of finding the moments of bliss.
But ... here, let me pour you another glass of red wind. You gotta hear the one about the time I got bit by a dog ...
This post originally ran in May of 2017 at findinvestigations.com