West Texas

In the bar in Ft. Davis I hear a guy say, "just give me one more round of something."

Jeannie the bartender had just showed me her tattoos.

She started with her left arm--the first tattoo--a memorial for her husband who died young. Her second tattoo is of the Phoenix rising and travels pretty much up her entire right arm, wrist to shoulder. "I'm still coming up out of the ashes," she says

Then Jeannie turns around and pulls down her shirt so I can see the tattoos on her shoulder and neck. "One's the name of my oldest son," she says, pointing so I see clearly, "the one who has my back."

The other's the name of her first grandchild and the date of his birth. It's the newest tattoo, less than a year old.

I settle up with Jeannie, say goodbye. The guy who said he wanted one more round of something has what he wanted.

Driving the road back to Marfa, it starts to snow.