Cheesology

Mom took a bearing from the Witch and walked across the naked rock as if it were a trail. This time, when a cow fence blocked our way, there was no way around. We were probably the first not-cows to try to cross here since chickensauruses ruled the earth.  “What do we do now?” I asked. “This is nothing. We’ve solved problems way worse than this before,” Mom said, forgetting that way worse problems meant way worse solutions. 

She walked along the fence, checking its feet for signs of weakness. The fence was made from three wires: the top one too high to step over, the bottom one too low for Mom to climb under, and the one in between was there so you wouldn’t get any ideas.

Finally, Mom found a place where the ground dipped to make a gap under the bottom wire. Here, there was enough space to lose not just a tennis ball, but a basketball under the fence.

Mom took off the packpack, threw it to the other side, and lay face-down like a chalk outline. She slithered underneath with much grunting and cursing. When she stood up on the other side, I looked both ways for tattletales and ducked under the fence to join her. 

We finally walked back into Quicksand Wash wet, dusty, and with specks of cow dung and blood on our coats. My chest filled with relief knowing that the only traps between me and the Wagon were a few puny patches of quicksand. Suddenly, a little quicksand didn’t sound so dramatic.

“Where does quicksand come from?” I asked as we trudged through the miles of sand between us and the Wagon.

Mom tilted her head to think. “It’s been a long time since my 8th grade geology class…”

“Cheesology? That sounds like the hobby for me. I have a talent for anything cheese-related.” 

“Geology is rock science,” Mom said, shoving her science between me and cheese. “The quicksand was like an upside-down puddle with the water pooling under the surface instead of on top. All the rain from the storms last week must have raised the water table until it’s level with the surface.”

I knew that the Weather Jinx could pull water from the sky, but I had no idea she was powerful enough to pull water up through solid earth. “Did it come for you out of revenge because you escaped the river yesterday?” I asked. “No wonder you were so scared on top of that cliff. The river could have reached up through the rock and grabbed us at any second.” 

Mom modestly shrugged off her bravery. “We probably won’t have to worry about quicksand much anymore, though. The rainy season is almost over and the drought is so severe that most of the underground lakes are starving.”

“Is that why it’s eating legs instead?” I asked.

“It didn’t eat our legs,” Mom lied. 

“How can you say that? It’s eaten like nine of them today.” 

“We got them back. The worst thing that happened was that my socks got wet.”

“I thought wet socks were the worst that could happen.”

“It seemed like that yesterday, but once the worst had already happened, there was nothing I could do about it. It was like a burden had been lifted.” A peaceful half-smile snuck onto Mom’s face. “After that, wet socks were the least of my problems.”

“If you can pick your problems,” I coached, “maybe you shouldn’t see wet socks as a problem at all. You would have less to worry about if dry socks weren’t something that you expected from life.”

“What? And worry about things I can’t control instead? Are you crazy? If wet socks feel like the end of the world and I’m the only one who can control whether my socks stay dry, then only I can save the world from disaster.” 

“That’s a big responsibility,” I agreed.

“It sure is, especially since quicksand, puddles, and rivers are never going to listen to me. Maybe that’s why it felt so good to let the responsibility go.”

“Oh good! So if all the quicksand is going away and wet socks aren’t a big deal anyway, then the world is safe. What will you do with all your free time now that you don’t have to play the worry game anymore?”

“There are always things to worry about. It’s even worse when the groundwater dries up, you know. Do you know what a sinkhole is?”

“The hole in the sink is called a drain, Mom.”

“Not a sink hole, a sinkhole…”

“What did I say?”

“When the water table dries out, it leaves empty cavities underground. Without water holding up the ceiling, the ground above it collapses. Anything that happens to be there is swallowed by the earth, never to be seen again. Southwestern cities like Tucson, Houston, and San Bernardino are already sinking.”

I had no idea that the Weather Jinx’s superpower was so important. “Not Saint Bernardino, the gateway to the Inland Empire, home to the world’s first McDonald’s, the only city whose airport is named after a fart!” I gasped. “The West is going ex-sinked and people are worried about a little virus?”

I was so absorbed in the story of Middle Earth, that I hardly noticed that we were almost back to the road. As soon as we stepped into the car kennel, the Witch came back to life and began buzzing red alert. Mom’s face did perplexed as she read what the Witch had to say. 

I flopped down in the shade of the Wagon and waited for Mom to unlock the door, but she was still standing halfway across the car kennel staring at the Witch.

“What does she want now?” I asked, not because I cared but because I wanted Mom’s attention back.

“What the heck does shelter in place mean?”

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