Taking the road that angled west I had soon driven just over ten miles to where Jessie lived and was expecting me. She must have been watching when I turned the rental car into her drive that Thursday afternoon and drove up to park in front of her log house at just before three. She came flying out the door, pulling on a jacket as she took the stairs from the broad front porch two at a time—somehow without falling—her sled dog Tank following more cautiously behind her. Reaching the bottom, she all but hurled herself into an enthusiastic hug for me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh, Maxie,” she told me, leaning back and giving me a grin. “I’m so glad to see you!” “And I you,” I told her. “I feel like it’s been ages since I saw you last.” “Well, it hasn’t been that long actually. I was here just after the earthquake.” “That’s right, you were, but it feels like longer ago. I just wish we lived closer together—either you here, or us there. How long can you stay?
