Walking down the empty main thoroughfare, I couldn’t hear them at all… the loudest of voices, weakened by the inevitable falling apart of things.

Feels like Covid my family told each other.

On this, the busiest holiday weekend of the year.

I’d been watching airfares for the last couple of weeks, and the cost to get here had dropped in half, so I’d bought a ticket. There wasn’t a single person in the TSA line at the San Diego airport, and the security guy shrugged when I asked him where everyone was.

“Been like this all day, bro.”

I’d seen the news reports of hoards and congestion, and figured I’d eventually run into the masses… especially when I arrived in this valley, flanked by rugged peaks and home to a popular destination resort. 

This is the kind of place where the pendulum swings first, from hype to panic, from overheated to fire sale. I left this little mountain enclave in the midst of the Covid-inspired buying hysteria, when well-heeled escapists converged on the place and bought everything in sight… including my small ranch, which wasn’t even listed.

The better decisions in my life have been defined by watching and listening, quietly, while others are talking loudly of their plans. 

And then doing the opposite.

I suppose this is the road less traveled, which I knew would bring me back here again.

Perhaps sooner than later.

Because walking down the empty main thoroughfare, I couldn’t hear them at all… the loudest of voices, weakened by the inevitable falling apart of things.