I thought I’d find a quiet shady place near the canyon edge to sit and write. But everywhere it seemed there were people. I decide to skip the trail I’d meant to take and continue on one I’d hoped would be less traveled. The worn sandy path continued in turns between the pinion and juniper trees. I the distance a woman praised her dog for shitting at the canyon bottom before returning to the trail. A group of high school kids sat at one look out point and shared stories in the only piece of shade. Ughh! It drove me further along the canyon edge. I turned another corner and came upon a large group speaking in a language- familiar, yet . I forgot about my plans to write and tried to place the words.
I asked, “What language are you speaking?”
The man closest said, “Polish.”
“Where in Poland are you from?”
“I’ve been to Krakow. I had a girlfriend from there. My first book takes place in the city.”
“You’re a writer?”
“I’ve a small publishing house in Krakow.”
What are the chances really? A writer whose first book takes place in Krakow and a publisher from Krakow meeting on a trail in a canyon outside of Cortez. It is the smallest of worlds at times. I guess it brings to mind- sometimes you end up being exactly where you need to be at exactly the right time.