Paradise

J.'s leaving soon, back to the fires of hell from whence he emerged as far as I'm concerned. Apparently, you can take a lizard out of Texas, but not Texas out of a lizard, if a Texas lizard indeed it is. (He thinks he is one, and he doesn't like it here. So much.) So we've made a pact to spend our weekends together until he goes. Who knows when he'll make it back up here or when I'll make it back down there? Today we stocked the cooler and went up to Paradise on Mount Rainier. Recall I had written of the alpine wildflowers that spill over the valley in abundance end of July, early August, as though a crazy, impatient kid had just taken out every crayola in one of those big boxes of 64 colors and went nuts with them. It's times when I see beauty like this that I feel God must be some sort of playful spirit that just goes crazy sometimes with imagination and joy. So we sat there eating turkey and cheese sammiches, drinking beer, and eating cheetoes and admiring wildflower meadows with 8000 foot glaciers rising behind them. "This food is so great, this is awesome," he said, obviously enjoying a lousy packaged turkey sandwich with all his heart. "I'll never forget this," he said. I commented, "Hey, it would be great even if we were eating Vi-eeena sausages and sody crackers," immitating Dad. Yeah, long pause. Longer pause. My Dad would have loved Paradise. Some pictures--not mine. Dad, I wish you'd seen it too.