yourlifeisatrip

by Nancy King

The phone rang, a welcome break from correcting student essays. “Want to take a road trip to New Mexico?" asked my son. “I’ve got five days off and I haven’t seen you in a while.”

My son. The southwest. Five days of fun. "Of course," I replied. 

We spent four days of our visit driving around northern New Mexico, enjoying chile-infused food, appreciating the vast expanse of sky and the changing colors of rock formations sculpted by the wind. The fifth and last day began innocently enough.  My son sells houses so our host suggested he visit some properties with a real estate agent. “Want to come?” he asked me. 

"Of course," I said. I had no idea of what was to come. 

The first house the realtor showed us was old, ugly, and expensive—mouse droppings everywhere.  “Good thing I’m not planning to move to Santa Fe,” I thought. The second house looked so forlorn it needed anti-depressants as much as it needed paint. A third house had mirrors everywhere—even on the ceiling in the kitchen. Who would want to live in a place that looked like a brothel? 

As we drove away, the realtor said, “There’s a house that just came on the market two days ago. If the owners agree, would you like to take a look at the house?" My son nodded yes.  The realtor looked at me. I shrugged. What did I care? Just one more house to look at.