Wednesday, January 2, 2019

The Wandering Widow- Day 4

Yesterday, I found myself crying over a lost cooler.

It wasn't just any cooler, it was Ralph's vintage Oscar Cooler by Coleman, circa 1981. I left it in Moab in the hotel parking lot and someone took it. I know this because I called the front desk four hours after leaving, but it was apparently gone.



I remember trying to get all my crap in the car in the same way I had fit it all in like a puzzle when I left San Diego. I fancy myself a good packer, but that was Ralph's thing-organizing- he even made a living at it. I usually end up tossing everything in at the end and calling it a day if the car doors will close.

I even went out in the night air of 5 degrees and emptied my car out again, thinking maybe I misplaced it- as if it was a shoe or a hairbrush.

 The last time Ralph used the cooler was on his 70th birthday at his beach party in August. In October, a month after he died, I needed to use the cooler and I opened it up to find it full of beers. COLD BEERS!


 I knew that I could get rid of all our other coolers because this one would now be mine.

And straight out of the chute, I lost it.

 I could blame the medications I am on for severe bronchitis and altitude sickness, or widow brain, but in the end, it doesn't matter. I drove off and left it and someone took it.

I sat in the car and cried, and then I remembered it held a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream, an expensive bottle of Rombauer Chardonnay my friend gave me for Christmas and my freaking cough syrup- talk about insult to injury.


That just pissed me off.

 I woke up this morning and thought about the cooler and realized that it was just a thing. I've thrown plenty of his belongings away already and the cooler, while it was a sweet memory, won't bring him back, it will just keep beers cold for a month.

 I'm learning to let go of things on this trip and I guess that was the first thing to go.

 Meanwhile, I'm sure his spirit followed the cooler culprit and gave him a flat tire, or at the very least, turned my fancy wine to vinegar.



 

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