I was sixteen - I think. Or perhaps I was fifteen. Age is somewhat an irrelevant subject matter to me now that I have passed my dreaded age of thirty. I'll stick with fifteen as I have a problem with even numbers.
Fifteen and a pension for travelling and seeing anything besides Arkansas. That was me. Always me. I dreamt big and lived small. Until the day my father announced he would be taking me and my four siblings or veritable age on a road trip to see the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon! I was ecstatic! I had only ever seen pictures of it in books and on post cards. Yes! This was going to be the highlight of my spring!
A week later, accompanied by my dad and said siblings, we loaded into our dusty old van, waved farewell to my mom and five younger siblings, and began the drive that would take me out of the country wilds of Arkansas! This was very important to me at the time - leaving Arkansas - so I mention this again and again. My brain was swamped, no, consumed with this through my teenage years. I loved every second of the drive. I plastered my face to the window and squealed silently in delight as we passed the first state line. I drooled in wonder as we passed through the badlands of Texas, the liquid gold and rose sunset melting into the broken horizon. I reveled in the freedom of not being under my mother's eye (to say we clashed as I grew up would be an understatement.)
Finally, there it was. That magnificent blue sign with the half sun of yellow and orange rays welcomed me to Arizona! It wasn't long after that we arrived at the Grand Canyon. We knew we were close more than an hour before we reached it. In the distance, far ahead, seemingly at the end of the flat stretch of grey we drove on, there seemed to be a thick, black line marring the unbroken expanse of flat. We drove and drove and still, that slithering black line stayed ahead of us.
"That's the Grand Canyon," my dad announced. I remember I unbelted and spilled over the seat to crouch behind his seat and take in the darkness that was my light. It was magnificent even as nothing more than a broken and blurred line. It grew darker and darker as the sun set and yet, somehow, the Canyon ahead of us defeated the night and was visible through it. I loved this place already!
It was pitch black and late at night when we finally stopped. There was a small cluster of rustic, wooden cabins in a horse shoe layout on the side of the road. A dirty sign boasted "Canyon Lodging! Free Ice!" At the time I remember thinking that free ice was an odd advertisement for lodgings. My dad went in to purchase us a one room cabin and returned. "The old timer at the desk says we're only 15-20 minutes from the Rim," he told us. We had been driving nonstop and were mostly excited. I say mostly because I was far to amped on excitement to feel tired.
Still. We found our numbered cabin and spilled out of the vehicle, ready to stretch our cramped leg muscles. I was ready to - good gods; what was THIS? The night heat of Arizona hit me like brick oven. I always assumed nights in the desert were cold, or at least semi-cool. Apparently, at this particular time of year, the very random year we decided to head to the Grand Canyon, an intense heat wave was blistering the area and all within it.
Sweat immediately broke out on my forehead, I mopped at those repulsive, salty beads in a disgruntled attempt to save my very unfortunate teenage skin from yet another acne breakout and tested my ability to breathe in the thick air. My siblings seemed fine but then, I have always been the odd quack in the family that cannot handle heat over 60 degrees. In we went to the one room cabin. Air conditioning was a tiny box in the window and it was off. I remedied that and stood before the cool, stale air, flapping my shirt furiously, trying to stay dry.
"It's not that hot," scoffed my brother James.
I glared but that was all I had the energy for. My excitement and adrenaline had been drained by a heat sucking Vampire named Desert Heat Wave. The good news, I told myself, was that tomorrow would be better because we were going to get up early in the morning and surely the early morning air would hold a kiss of relief from the heat. I thought of the ice maker I had seen on the way in to this lodging area and my mouth salivated at the thought of crunchy, icy goodness going down my throat and lowering my core temperature. Then I thought of the teens I had seen in the distance as we pulled in and immediately my mind began conjuring up an epic romance.
I was a lover and a writer at heart. I could see it then. I would ask to go to the ice machine and fetch a bucket of ice. On my way there I would ensure I passed by the group of teens I had spied. One would notice me. The handsomest one of course. He would approach me as I scraped up some ice. "Hey," he would say with a dazzling smile. I would respond with a half smile - slightly mysterious and not overly interested. My aloof nature would surely intrigue him and then-
"No ice, just get to sleep," cut in my dad's voice. Apparently I had asked to get ice and not even realized it. If my face could have fallen it would have but the heat had already dropped it as far as I am sure it could go at that point. There would be no midnight desert rendezvous for me; only the incessant heart that the rickety air conditioner could not touch. With a sigh, I flopped onto the tiny, scratchy, olive green couch. I didn't sleep much that night. Visions of a cool morning, swimming in a pool of ice and the reality of what felt like burlap scratching my sweaty skin kept me company until dawn.
To Be Continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment