|
Sunday Suicide Memorial Sortie before/after
Sunday was a gloomy day.
So I headed into the mountains where the sun seemed to hide. If its cloudy in the valley, definitely after you hit the Eisehower Tunnel, it will be sunny.
It was sunny just a few miles into the mountains this time.
Opened the moonroof, bathed in the sun, smoking killer green and listening to music as I drove up to Lake Dillon, for a visit to the suicide memorial benches and statue.
A sharp cold wind struck up as I started to sit, sending me back to my car to look for a coat.
Not finding a coat, I decided to brave it as long as I could.
I went to sit a second time, and it was fine. Gorgeous even. I sat there for quite some time.
A few locals walked by and gave me the eye. I tried to denote with my body language that I knew what I was doing, but don't know if this made the translation.
At some point a woman and her child came by to sit. Neither knew what the memorial was commemorating, as it no longer says.
The child exhuberantly climbed on the statue, while the mother giggled, and again wondered aloud why this was here.
So I told her. Its a memorial to a girl who committed suicide.
This caused some concern.
The child was lounging with her, (and the name 'Karen' keeps coming to mind, but I may not be right), trying to play with her unyeilding hair, laughing and making merry.
I turned to see what she was doing, and her mother looked very concerned. She hustled the little girl off of the memorial and "left me to this".
As the child wandered away, a chill breeze rose up, and then died.
I lounged awhile longer, basked in the sunlight, and eventually noticed that there was a couple sitting on a picinic bench behind me, seemingly waiting for me to leave. Getting a little restless about it, I believe.
The parents? Whomever they were, they were definitely not into any sort of interaction. Who knows.
So I roused myself (I almost dozed off at one point, I was so relaxed), stood up, faced her, and lazily I reached out and touched my index finger to her big toe in an affectionate gesture. I spoke quietly in a deep drawl.
"Seeya, sweetheart."
I felt eyes burning holes into my back as I walked to my car. Maybe that was the parents.
Fuck 'em. Dad probably molested his little girl to death.
So I took Loveland Pass on the way back, and stopped at one turn off, where you are way, way, way above the highway, and the traffic there can barely see you, only noticing the reflection of glare as cars there look to be on a small road on the side of the mountain, and smoked pot gratuitously, with grand gestures, sitting on the middle console of my car, with my upper body and arms out of the moonroof, hoping that maybe some eagle eyed motherfucker could see it, and be envious that he was not above it all, basking in the sun, knowing that life is fucked but enjoying it none-the-less.
|
