"Son" I said squinting, I think we are here. "it's Colorado, wake up." I dug out the petrified french fry for Charlie, who was ripping up the upholstery in my v.w.

"Mom, why did we drop Frances on the highway, again?" Eric asked sleepily. He was plump and pink from sleep. I felt for him. There were many books under his rump, but looking in the rear view mirror, he seemed cozy with the dog. The sky was a deep navy, the long prairie grass synchronized so beautifully with the wind. And the black cows lying, trusting all this open space. How could they stand so much air and nothing to box them in?

I had just come from Boston on a fast horse. I rode out with my child as if I were beseiged by demons. Perhaps I was. I wouldn't think of them for years, out in the safety of the sage, the coyote slung up on the barbed wire fence just to say "hello east coast bitch. hope you aren't an environmentalist, here's the coyote for you" and I thought I could have had demons.