Richard and I often lament the opportunities we pass by as we travel, such as the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, and even the ubiquitous jerky stands and a quirky ostrich farm or rock shop.
We drive near the Hoover Dam several times a year. Since the bypass was constructed, there is a walkway spanning the canyon which we have never tried… because we’re in a hurry to get home to start the laundry and check our email or something. Somehow these things feel so petty when you begin to walk across the bridge, feeling the swaying and vibrations from traffic and catching the gusts of wind. At least this is what I think I would have felt if I hadn’t been taking care of our dog while the rest of the family had the adventure. I’m not bitter. Heights grow more terrifying with time. And I’m old. There’s nothing like heights to reaffirm that.
I drive though desolate scenes every day, but even here, the desert reminds me that there is depth and beauty for those who look. A coyote runs out in front of the car; a bull emerges near the railroad tracks on a foggy morning; an owl sits calmly on the power line as we race past it to church activities in the evening. Each of these sitings has left me inexplicably rejuvenated.
The key is to keep looking, even when the desert seems so, so barren, because I’m quite certain that it is wonder that rejuvenates and enlivens our souls.
