Deportation. Expulsion. Banishment. Expatriation. Eviction. Removal. Exclusion. Displacement. Ejection. I am living the nightmare. While writing this, I am sitting in a rented room not far from my beloved ranch, Las Tortugas, longing to sit in my office with two large computer screens composing this tale of woe.

Alas, the laptop screen is just not conducive to writing great literary works, so I have not toiled on the revision of my current novel while in hiding.

DEPORTATION ORIGINS

The deportation dilemma is my fault. It all started fifteen years ago when I planned a sixtieth birthday surprise party for my husband. I invited two of his friends, one from Houston and another from North Carolina. And the biggest mistake was leaving for the weekend so they could enjoy their time together.

Unfortunately, they had such a fabulous weekend that they planned the event yearly. The only skipped years occurred because of COVID. 

Mind you, I have my office/she shed a couple of hundred yards from the main house. I have begged to stay there, promising not to come to the main house, but to no avail. My husband wants me off the property. Also, one of his friends snores. They send him across the way to escape his ruckus.

Are they having naked women jumping out of a cake? Doing drugs? Drinking to excess? All this time, I have found no evidence of such behavior. One year, they did let one of the men’s wives come. She and I spent time away from the ranch touring.

Hmmm. Maybe, just to be sure, I should set up the deer cam to see who comes in and out of the property while I am gone.

DEPORTATION ADVENTURES

The main problem is that I want to go away when I want to go away—not when someone makes me. As revenge, I planned a trip to Cabo San Lucas in Mexico during one of the birthday bashes. My husband did not care. I guess he would pay any amount of money to see that I was out of his hair.

I have been to Mason, Texas, stayed on an ecologically restored ranch, and sifted for Topaz. Visiting friends is another way I have coped. But dang it, sometimes I just don’t want to go anywhere.

DEPORTATION 2025

This year, the expulsion really rankled me. The guests stay Thursday through Sunday. Then, after they have departed, I am allowed to return. The problem this year is that Sunday I leave for Las Vegas to receive a Pencraft Award for my novel, Tough Trail Home. The award ceremony is Monday night. I did not want to leave on the trip exhausted. I begged and pleaded, but no cigar.

Fortunately, one of my friends in town rents rooms. So, here I am. My routine has been visits to the gym, working in the library, and eating out. I actually sat on the restaurant patio yesterday and read a book.

Tonight, I will have a quiet night, maybe even picking up a pizza.

LAST THOUGHTS ON DEPORTATION

The one thing this experience has taught me is that I need to work harder to do nothing! For a good twenty-four hours, I was antsy, feeling I needed to be productive. Eventually, I gave up and spent a good part of yesterday afternoon reading.

Being by myself made me realize that I have never actually lived alone. Yes, I was divorced for several years, but my children were around when they were not with their father. That day may come sooner than I expect. Will I be ready? I hope so.

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