The Valley of Death

(This is not going to be a funny post. To read something humorous in nature, click on any of the links on the right.)




A couple of Christmases ago, Eric and I went to New Orleans to visit with his parents. Starting at 4 a.m., I drove through Illinois and all the way into Mississippi before I switched with Eric. I drove most of the way down because he had worked a double shift the night before, and he needed to sleep more than 6 hours.

I fell asleep in Mississippi, and when I awoke, we were crossing into Louisiana. I looked out the window and it looked like death outside. It was pitch black, and there was a forest of dead trees sticking up out of what seemed like the ocean. There was water everywhere. In my drowsy state, it looked to me like the highway was just floating upon water. At the end of the highway, we could see a small patch of lights that were shining in the darkness. The French Quarter was this small, well-lit city bursting through the darkness.

The radio was on low and was playing some Philip Glass, and I honestly thought, for a whole moment in time, that I had fallen asleep behind the wheel, and we both had died, and we weren't heading to New Orleans,  but heading through death into the afterlife.

I will dream about that long stretch of highway leading into New Orleans. Each time I do I wake up with a start and check to make sure Eric is still breathing. I smell the trees rotting in the water every time I dream about it. And that, my friends, is what I imagine I will smell when I die - what the valley of death smells like.