There Are No Palms in Palmdale

Glenbrook, Nevada

Billy and I have come to Glenbrook to spend time with Sandra and John. Sandra, my frister extraordinaire and blog namesake has been struggling with cancer and the difficult treatment that goes along with it. We had not seen Sandra since last September when they came to Carmel for a visit. She was gaining her strength back at that time, and the prognosis was good. But, alas, as Sandra wrote to me late last year, the cancer came back big time.

The second round of chemo took a lot out of her, but was successful in shrinking most of the tumors. I attribute that to the chemo, but I'm not so sure that the chemo did all the work. I cannot imagine how many prayers have been sent up for her. Bizillions, I think. And, if that didn't do the trick, I'm sure it worked in concert with the chemo.

Sandra looks thin, but with attractive, short, spikey hair. But most importantly, she is the same Sandra. She has a glow that comes from within and from, I believe, being the best person I know on this earth. She is kind, generous, a rock when you need one, and yet is the wickedest-funnest person I know. The chemo has taken a lot out of her, but it hasn't changed who she is. I just wish there was more of her, but she is trying hard to put weight back on.

Billy and I drove up to Glenbrook on US 395 which my family used to call the back road. I grew up with cousins who lived in Nevada, and we traveled there often when I was young. 395 takes you to Carson City. It's Mojave Desert for the first third or so of the drive, and then you begin to see trees. You have to slow to drive through little towns like Bridgeport and Tom's Place. Quaint places that look like they provide some civilization for folks who are mostly in those parts for fishing. Lots of sporting goods stores with big fish signage.

Once we turn onto Highway 50 at Carson City, and proceed up Spooner Grade, we begin to look forward to our first glimpse of the lake. It's a lot like driving into Carmel and anticipating the cypress trees, or, as we did when we were kids, trying to catch that first sighting of the Matterhorn on our way to Disneyland. I generally don't use the overused word awesome, but...it kinda is. When I first went to study Spanish at the Intensive Spanish Summer Institute at Tahoe in 2009, I thought I would hate being in the mountains. I'm a beach girl. But I found the lake to be so splendidly gorgeous, that I fell in love with the area. And Glenbrook, which is on the east shore, is about as idyllic of a community as I have ever seen. It is perfect.

We probably never would have heard of Glenbrook had we not been introduced to John and Sandra at the Bora Bora Bar at the Kona Village Resort. But we were, and we became fast friends. I have written before that we have traveled to various places together in addition to our annual October stays at the Kona Village--Rancho Santa Fe, Napa, Las Vegas, Carmel, Tahiti, and Panama. But I think of all of the places we've spent time together, besides the Kona Village, Glenbrook is my favorite. And, because John and Sandra have a lakeside home there, it is feels so relaxing to be with them. Often their large house and the guesthouse are filled with family and friends. But this time it is just us, and we have had a quiet visit together. Hopefully it feels similarly for them when they come to Carmel to stay with us.

We have made plans to see them again when we are in Carmel this September. Billy and I look forward to this. In my mind's eye I see Sandra gaining weight and strength. I see her now-spent energy increasing with each day that passes. I see us traveling together again, and having some of the wicked fun we have had in the past. Throughout her illness, Sandra has said that she believes in miracles, and so does her doctor. And so do all of us who are sending up those prayers.

We will drive home tomorrow, back down 395 through those small towns and speed traps. Eventually we will hit Palmdale. When we drove through Palmdale last Friday, Billy remarked: Have you ever noticed that there are no palms in Palmdale? Sometimes things aren't the way you expect them to be. And you just have to accept that. I do that every day as I watch my elderly mom diminishing. But I cannot do that with Sandra. She's the best of the best, and everyone who knows her wants her to rally and recover. Miracles happen, even in modern times. And while nobody needs palms in Palmdale, everyone who knows Sandra needs her. For me, she will always be my special friend/sister; my role model, my travel companion partner-in-crime. For me, she will always, always be Girlfriend--my irreplaceable Frister Extraordinaire.