“He is going to be late…” Billy’s text types out. Chris, my friend, my ride to BroSummit had to double back before springing us from the airport. “Rene is there. By fault of habit, he accidentally booked a flight to Leon instead of Aguas. He is catching a ride with Chris as well.”
It all works out. Rene and my daughter have not yet met. Forty-five minutes to an hour is ample time to catch up over a round of sweet, papaya smoothies - courtesy of Rene. Safe we are now, the clock’s snail trot.
Our caravan finally arrives. It’s time to part ways. Chris’ wife Jessica is taking the girls back to her place. They will have a blast! The travel to the lodge starts off pretty standard. City traffic turns country highway. A pit stop. The mountains. Gorgeous is the scenery from this point forth!
Now Chris can drive. But the way he does has you protesting as though he cannot. His mother informed me after the fact, both he and his father grew up under the influence of some form of racing. I concur.
Personally, I would have taken those dusty, narrow, mile-high mountain roads, with no guard rails at a much slower pace. I would not have hugged the curves like lovers reunited, happy, and alone. Do I exaggerate? A little bit. But what to make of the return trip? My head is dizzy as a white trash county carnival. My stomach, buoyant - plotting with breakfast around some sort of sick exit strategy.
He’s an adventurous sort of character. His advantage is that he uses it as a means to help a lot of people; providing employment for those in need, offering exceptional schooling opportunities for children, preaching the Gospel from the platform of his church - living it from the stage of his life. Oftentimes, he’s just making you laugh. No small tasks.
Might it be healthy to have friends in our life who help us spill our guts every once in a while? Shake us up to know what’s really in there? Not just that of which we think, wish, or fabulize? But honestly? Chris is indeed one of these individuals. Thank you, God.