HELEN'S JOURNAL

The last time I was in Santa Fe it was Christmas. The New Mexicans' have a wonderful tradition at this time of year of placing candles in small brown paper sacks which are weighted with sand. These are then placed along roof tops, in the plaza, in fact just about everywhere. The warm glow they give off, mixed with the hot, waxy aroma of the burning candles is intoxicating. Fat red restras of red chilies decorate the churches, restaurants and street corners and the round adobe buildings look like friendly parcels in the flickering candlelight. Santa Fe is so different from the other Route 66 towns- indeed there aren't even any markers for the od route, here it is called the old Santa Fe Trail. We took a picture of San Miguel which is the oldest church and I couldn't resist peeking into it one more time. The desire was not a religious one, though the breathtaking mountains, endless blue sky you could almost dive into, and the heady scent of the pinion, make New Mexico a very spiritual place, it was about being back in such a magical place and feeling that I could open a door and know what lay behind it. It's about a sense of familiarity, of belonging, even if just for a moment. It is the same as being in Meteor City yesterday and recognising Bob's pictures. It's about walking back into The Frontier Cafe and greeting Mildred and Vera by name. We are in motion every day, passing through tiny towns and huge states and now each day brings us closer to Chicago and the end of this particular journey. In the midst of all this movement it is wonderful to feel those pure moments of 'being there', of ,just for an instant, belonging.