When last we saw Mavis, she was herself at a distinct turning point in her young life. As we dwell on our past, often there are moments that stick out with the obfuscation of a sore thumb. Were it only more apparent at the time how important any series of events in succession would become, we may be more able to prepare our senses for the onslaught. To Mavis’ credit, she had entered some sort of transcendental state on her visit to the White Sands and seemed quite able to visualize what the sanctum of inner peace must feel like, although she was far from being in that state itself. To her credit, Mavis had done quite a bit of self-exploration to reach this point.
Without any tricky phrases like “Om” or “Woo-Sah,” Mavis had spent several hours each day practicing her own form of meditation. Sure, it may have involved a couple bananas, a Diet Pepsi, and her very own copy of “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,” but they say there is more than one way to skin a cat. She had ravaged the book, figuratively speaking, of course, like a hungry dog devours his food without stopping for a breath. The end left her feeling somewhat empty and longing for me, but it was just the right motivation for her to get back on the road and find a place to settle.
After she had finally collected her belongings and found herself back in the driver’s seat, a loud crack of thunder shook the air, followed by a downpour that just moments ago would have thoroughly soaked her. This launched inside her a great confidence in her decision to leave and she proceeded to start the engine and drive away.
To be continued…