We are back home. As a matter of fact, I’m sitting up in bed, a coffee at my side, and the sun is filling the space with afternoon light.
It’s past noon.
Apparently my daughter and I are still on Vegas time, despite the fact that we all drove across the country.
Our trip changed me somewhat. How could it not? I thought it would be fun. I KNEW it would be fun. I knew it would be beautiful. I didn’t know anything though, really.
I’ve never felt a connection to America. I’ve never felt a sense of pride or patriotism regarding my country. Then again, I didn’t really know anything about my country. I only knew the East Coast and part of the Midwest. Nothing, really.
Sure, I’d been to California and Washington, but I spent time in the cities there. A city in America is just like any other city in America, regardless of the state you’re in. In all cities, people are worn by worry and propelled by caffeine, hurrying to the next obligation. In the cities, it seems people seldom take time to be present. There, where the WiFi is strong, most are disconnected from their own lives and they take classes to plug in or check out for a while.
Take me to a place where the WiFi is weak. A place that threatens this blog’s ability to survive…even as it barely does now. Take me to the place where the sun etches it’s life into the darkened skin of mankind and the land tells a story of bygone eras, where once great lizards roamed dense tropical jungles…now dry, arid deserts.
I love the desert.
Me, the Pisces.
Take me where the cold desert winds blow sand against my legs and the sun bleaches the land.
In the desert, my Spirit sings.
I swear, I hear the voices of my ancestors.
The desert reminds us of History and The Mother Road weeps with the stories of joy and sorrow of those who traveled before us.
We are but a speck of sand in this vast region of desolate beauty, where the Joshua Trees stand tall, unpretentious, and strong, and where the women smile – life and love creasing across their foreheads.
And my Spirit whispers “Sister.”