On the Road Again
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a gypsy. The Spanish word for a gypsy woman is “gitana” and I know this because I looked it up for my language class one time, when our teacher asked each of us to announce a goal. Though mine was met with barely suppressed laughter by the other people in the group, I remained undeterred. I wasn’t able to swing an authentic, wooden, horse-drawn gypsy wagon but a couple of years ago, I finally wore my husband down with incessant petitioning and we bought an adorable little T@B teardrop camper. I now get to pretend for days — and sometimes even weeks — at a time. “Querencia,” the late New Mexico poet and historian Estevan Arellano has written, “is a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn. Folklore tells us that ‘no hay mejor querencia que tu corral,’ there is no better place than your corral – a typical saying that alludes to where someone is raised, the place of one’s memories, of one’s affections, of things one loves and, above all, where one feels safe.” I adore where I live. I feel grounded and at home here — but in my heart, I am a wanderer. I have a beautiful deck of Tarot cards, so if you see my little silver and blue trailer out on the road, flag me down. I promise a positive reading.
