You’d think I was smarter than this.
I’d left plenty of time for my golden, Gracie, and me to drive from the Berkshires for an important meeting in New York. But I am addicted to shortcuts. I’ve pioneered dozens of ways to the city, none of which actually save me any time. Still, I love the adventure. Except when I get lost.
Gracie popped up in the back seat. Somehow, she always knows when I’m lost.
“Relax,” I said, “I got this.”
But I was worried. My GPS was incoherent, and the dirt road was getting narrower. Finally, I hit a crossroads. There was a wooden sign with letters and an arrow that were meant to appear carved. The sign said Bash Bish Falls, Five Miles.
Bash Bish. Once considered sacred by Indigenous people. I loved Bash Bish. The water cascades more than two hundred feet into a wide pool sixty feet below, hence its onomatopoeic name. I’d scattered the ashes of my wife, Julee, and Marty, our beloved Lab, there. The falls imparted to me a profound sense of peace and well-being.
But not today. My shortcut had wasted too much time.
As I turned the Jeep around at the deserted dirt crossroads, I paused and slipped the transmission in park. Closed my eyes. Summoned the image of water tumbling over terraced rock, splashing into the serene pool below, bash bish, bash bish . . .
The world stopped for a moment. Peace and connectedness. Serenity and calm. I opened my eyes and put the Jeep in drive. I’d found a shortcut after all.
Father of the waters and all the earth, thank You for the gift of imagining, so we can experience Your sacredness anytime, anywhere, to stay close to You.
—Edward Grinnan
