Page 32 of Easton

“We need to find a Stan.”

She looks confused for a beat, but then it hits her, and she exclaims, “Oh my God, I forgot all about him! Yes, we definitely need to find us one.”

Stan was a big ole saguaro cactus located on one of the trails in our neighborhood area where we used to walk. One of his arms was angled in such a way that he looked like he was waving.

So we named him Stan.

We passed by him and sat next to him at the picnic table nearby so many times over the years that he became like an old friend.

So we embark on a mission now, searching for a new Stan. Every twist and turn, and even on the straightaways along the trail, Claire and I scour the area, searching for a suitable new “friend.”

But we come up with nothing.

The sun is setting, and it’ll be dark soon, so, with a sigh, I say, “We better head back. We can look around another day.”

“Yeah.” Claire blows out a breath. “I guess we should go home.”

We traverse the same trails on our return until we’re not far from the house.

And that’s when an idea pops into my head.

There’s a fork in the path up ahead, so pointing to the right side of it, I say, “Do you want to take that trail back instead of the one we came down?”

Claire knows I’m thinking this could be a last-ditch effort to find our new Stan tonight.

She nods excitedly and says, “Yes. Good idea. Our Stan could be down there.”

“He could,” I agree, feeling optimistic.

Once we start down our alternate route, I notice right away that it’s much windier than the other trail, but the terrain is more open.

Navigating the twists and turns, we eventually reach a sharp L-bend.

Stopping and turning to face me, Claire says, “I think we’ve hit the final stretch. Guess this trail is a bust too.”

I sigh. “Yeah, it looks that way.”

And it does, until we hit the hard right angle of the bend, and lo and behold…

“Stan!” Claire exclaims.

“Holy fuck!” I start laughing as we walk up to a cactus that could be the original. “I can’t believe we actually found one that looks so much like our old guy.”

“Right?” Claire shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s so close to the house too. It’s like it was meant for us to live here.”

“Shit, it really is,” I concur.

It’s unbelievable how fate or kismet or whatever brought us back together in the first place. And now we even have a new Stan right on our property.

I tell Claire, “You know, this is close enough to the house that I can drag a picnic table back here. I mean, I’ll have to buy one first, of course. But bottom line…” My eyes meet hers. “We can sit out here like we used to by our old Stan.”

Smiling, she says, “I love that idea.”

“Then consider it done.”

With that decided, we also come to the conclusion that we should name this cactus New Stan, in honor and memory of the original one.

The short walk back to the house is an enjoyable one. We’re both happy.

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