Big Sur

 Big Sur 

Born a decade late

blessed to be a hippie at heart

but a prim and proper teacher

I knew I could never be

either          really 

just something in between

In 1999, I drove my Volkswagen van

Along CA 1, long blond hair 

blowing In the wind, 

singing with the Eagles

I pulled into the mecca, Big Sur

late on a Sunday afternoon

enjoyed my cafe' faire 

art in converted water tanks

the manager began closing 

I felt hurried 

but was reassured, I was welcome 

“stay as long as I want”

She joined me as I sipped my 

second cup, I asked what life is like on this beautiful 

desolate section of the coast 

She told me, Mother Nature has control 

you can’t see the rest of the world 

when the fog rolls in

mudslides stop access to and from

community comes together 

shares what they have.

In 1998 the road was closed for three months

neighbors’ personal pantries 

became grocery stores

Until helicopters dropped supplies

I knew I was home

She invited me to stay

Park in her yard

Hike the trails to the secret beach

Visit the school of peace and meditation

Help rebuild nature’s tubs

But a deferent destiny called 

so I moved on 

taking it with me 

Big Sur 2022

Driving south this time. 

Leaving another life behind. 

Searching for the Mecca. 

I knew was still there, Big Sur Coast Gallery. 

I’d looked it up online before I left. 

I hoped to find Emma. 

Instead, it became a four dollar stop. 

I chatted with Mike, the gallery manager. 

I remembered him, beach blond now gray.

He didn’t remember me. He remembered Emma. 

Told me how to get a hold of her. 

Told me she would like to hear my tale, 

said she probably needed to hear it. 

Her life changed, she left Big Sur 

moved up the coast to the big house in Carmel 

became the woman she didn’t want to be. 

The community had changed. 

strange faces - new builds. 

I drank my cup of coffee, well only half. 

It wasn’t very good. 

A mile or so down the road 

guards stood at the gate of Eselan.