It's on me!

Escaping the desert heat, I head up to 8000 feet and the stunning (and COOL) Toiyabe National Forest. I pull into a picnic area in the silver mountain forest – and there is a kiosk with a small, young white man with short hair in a brown uniform, collecting fees. He had been about to cross the road when I pulled up so he took himself back to his post, the wonderment glowing like the half moon that lit up the sky last nite.

I exclaim with angst, “Fee??? I didn’t realize there’s a fee”

He told me he was in Iraq, four years. I re-examine his hair cut, which is way too long for active duty. He is wearing sunglasses too so I can’t see his eyes but his voice feels thick and ladened.

I tell him how sorry I am that he was there and how glad I am to see he’s back, safe and appearing okay.

Yeah, he says, not like my buddy. He’s dead. We joined together – we did everything together since grade school. He’s dead he repeats himself.

I commend his choice of jobs, and hope he will be able to heal in this beautiful park.

I explain to him I just want a place to rest for a few hours while the desert is so hot. He appears to be looking at me intently. “I saw your truck and the peace symbol; then I saw the sign “out of Iraq” and I so agree with you ma’am. Tell you what, I’m going to let you come into today and rest. It’s on me!”

He tells me where I should head to, I thank him, and off I go!