Just before my freshman year of highschool, my mother and step-father took the family on a tour of the country. Our final destination was Memphis and then Iowa, but we went by way of the southwest. This was my first trip to the desert and I was impressed by the heat and by the desolation and since then, it has always been my favorite place.
All the usual characters of the desert were discovered on that trip for the first time. I remember admiring the cacti and the likeness of Joshua Trees and U2 album covers. I remember the evening we drove through Monument Valley. I can not explain the feeling but it was something like surprise. Magnificent and terrible surprise.
As I think back on that night, I am full of deep sadness. I can't go back to that time. Back to when I was a boy and my step-father was a young man. Back to the rocks and trees and the overcast sunset that turned the world to a glowing grey. That world and its enormous monoliths which stand like sign posts pointing to things gone by, has past by me.
Sometimes, I dream that on that evening in the desert, if only I could be there again, I'd find all those whom I've ever loved, waiting for me to come to them.
I know that my writing is weak and that you're probably scratching your head right now. All I can say is that my eyes are filled with tears about the past. Tears ready to fall on the sands of an overcast desert.
