Walls

Steep.

 

They hide the horizon in every direction. Only blue shown if I tucked my head far enough into the windscreen to peak straight up. Red sandstone flew past the side window as we careened down from the high desert. The song Dynamite Walls by Hayden plagued my head as we flew through another cut with the radio off.

 

It's good to drive without the radio. Trapped inside with only your thoughts and the conversation of someone you love. I would have rather had the benefit and comfort of time but instead I had the fear of ending in my mind. She annoyed me when she asked how I saw us ending. She asked that question alot. But as the walls flew by I suddenly knew that I couldn't drive through them only once. I had to turn around and do it again.

 

Somehow the second time seemed silly though I didn't say so. I don't know why I try and escape the inevitable. I suppose we all do. But then again there certainly seems to be those that step into age gracefully. Going back through the dynamite walls was like tying to defeat age... futile.

 

Falling down Cottonwood Creek Canyon in the car I could see the light dissipating and it angered me that we were missing the best light of Sedona. I have great pictures of our little walk up the side canyon in Oak Creek and I suppose the stop we made there should have sustained me, but it didn't. That whole day was one of those moments I let slip through my fingers at the time but is now so indelibly etched upon my soul I am quite certain that I will carry it into the next life.

 

I wonder what it is for others that know the best moments of their life have passed them by. What sustains them? how do we move forward each day with this certainty upon us? We don't. We move backward into these memories of happier times when we were fulfilled. I am shamed that I railed against it at the time and now that it is past I find little will to seek further moments. It is all so tied up in her. I would like to preach the folly I espoused in my youth but find that I cannot believe my sermon. At least in this regard. Instead I look for life’s w***e and would willingly pay the price to find a hope for moments such as those with her.

 

So perhaps I will return to those walls, those dynamite walls: just south of Page, AZ where though I missed it at the time I was spending some of the best moments of my life. Perhaps I knew it then and that why I turned around and passed through them again. And even then I knew I could not contain my time with the woman who etched upon my soul.