I Have Never Seen Snow
I have never driven across the country. I have never been to the Northwest. I have never seen snow.
My husband and I made a difficult decision to leave our friends, family and jobs to live somewhere safer, less crowded with more accessibility to the outdoors. On May 30, 2022, we loaded up our two Afghan Hounds, Josie and Robi and drove from Atlanta, Georgia to Boise, Idaho. We were wrung out from packing up and saying goodbye to our house and friends, we didn’t get too far- our first stop was Birmingham, Alabama. The next night was spent in Paducah, Kentucky and that was the last we saw of the south. We crossed the Mason Dixon Line and entered another world. In Kansas, I felt like saying we weren’t in Kansas anymore. The lush foliage of Georgia and soft lilt of a honeyed accent gave way to open plains, cold winds and broad vowel sounds of the Midwest. We passed through states I never thought I would see. Illinois and Missouri rippled past the window in shades of beige, tan and black. I saw the Arch of St. Louis and forever sky of Nebraska.
My husband’s car is older and not set up to stream music. We listened to NPR most of the way because the only other radio stations we could get were country or religious. For almost thirty hours, commentators dissected, blamed and ranted about the shooting at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas. Days later, another monster shot people attending a Fourth of July parade in Highland Park, Chicago. When is it going to end? I don’t know and I don’t know the solution. Gun violence happens so often. One headline replaces another in dizzying succession. It’s hard to remember details like names of shooters, victims, schools once shrieked by every media outlet.
My husband decided to rely on my non-existent map skills instead of following Waze directions and we ended up two hours away from our intended destination. We drove through backroads and lonely farmlands to North Platt, Nebraska to the La Quinta Hotel. When we left Georgia, it was sunny and 80 degrees. I was ill-prepared for the windy, cold late spring temperatures of 50 degrees in Nebraska. I had a light hoodie with me and one pair of jeans. All the rest of my clothes were shorts and tank tops or in a moving van. I wore a t-shirt, jeans and my husband’s flannel shirt for the entire trip.
Our next stop was Layton, Utah. We stayed at another La Quinta but this one was a little worse for wear. The check-in desk was ensconced behind a bullet proof partition. A sign on the glass said, “locals must pay in advance”. We probably should have driven back south to Salt Lake City, but I’ve stayed in worse places, and I didn’t see any bedbugs on the mattress. We chose to tough it out.
In the parking lot, the dogs and I met a woman and her son who were staying at the hotel on a semi-permanent basis. They stood on the cold pavement in bare feet and spoke around widely spaced teeth. Her hair was long, brown and limp his was shaved to an unrecognizable color of squirrel pelt gray. They asked about the dogs and petted them with hands ready to pull back from a bite. I sent a wish to them that whatever their life circumstance was, I hope someone cared for them.
When we walked into our hotel room, Josephine drank from the toilet before I could stop her. She started coughing and I saw that there was blue in the water. I stayed up all night Googling effects of dogs ingesting toilet cleaner. The internet promised me that Josephine wouldn’t die and she didn’t, but she coughed through the night and the entire trip to Boise.
Our Boise La Quinta was like a four-star boutique hotel compared to the La Quinta in Layton, Utah. We stayed there four days until the internet technician could arrive at our new house and hook us up to the world wide web and TV streaming. I didn’t mind staying in the hotel, I wasn’t ready to come to terms with the fact that we left Atlanta. Staying in the hotel made the move seem less real and more like we were on vacation, returning to our lives and friends in a couple of days.
Rob and Josie were fine with hotel life. They enjoyed the 24-hour attention from both of us, meeting people and other dogs at the hotel and several walks a day. Josie still coughed and I missed my awesome vet in Atlanta. One morning as I took advantage of the free breakfast, I met a man who was staying at the La Quinta with his elderly black lab. He was a professor at the University of Idaho in Moscow visiting his daughter in Boise. We talked dogs and then the conversation turned to why we left Atlanta. I told him about seeing a naked man literally hanging out across the street from my house. The professor chuckled, shook his head and said, “you’re in God’s country now.” I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
The movers arrived at our house and unloaded our furniture, the internet technician arrived and set up our computers. We checked out of the La Quinta and brought the dogs to the new house. Robi and Josie loved having more space indoors and a yard to run wild and free. Kenny was excited for a new beginning going to school and riding his bike on the trails. I was cold.
A cold front from Canada gripped Boise in a hard fist refusing to melt away to summer. The street was dead silent compared to the sound of gunshots, cars racing, dogs barking and music blaring that I was used to in Atlanta. I felt the loss of my best friend, Erric, like a hole in my heart. This was the first time in 36 years that we had been separated by such a large distance.
We took Josie to a vet who said the cough was due to stress and some sort of canine flu. She prescribed steroids and Josie recovered a little bit every day. Erric said he would come visit in the fall. I had lunch with a lady that I knew from an online group and met a new friend after going to an Audubon Society meeting. Things started looking up.
Maybe I’ll like living in Idaho.
