We were supposed to be here yesterday (Thursday). But our flight – through Dallas – was cancelled. I was not about to complain, though, not one little bit – about that, considering the terrible suffering so many are enduring in Texas right now.
So here we are. A different flight taken early this morning. Yes, we lost a day, but the elimination of one half-day’s activity isn’t a problem. As I said…not a problem at all.
A few years ago, the two youngest and I went to the north rim of the Grand Canyon. It was part of this trip. This time, it’s just the youngest and I, and now at the south rim. We’ll be here for just a day, then we’ll move on.
It’s a short trip, but a welcome one. Kid #4 headed over to Europe earlier this week, the youngest has worked hard, both in “school” and in his music, with Easter (organ) and piano recitals (again – after a two year break for various reasons) forthcoming. So a jaunt seemed called for.
As I said, we were supposed to get to Arizona Thursday evening, with an early morning drive up to the Grand Canyon. That was replaced by an early morning flight and an afternoon of driving to the Grand Canyon. All new territory for us. We arrived just at sunset, and it was gorgeous. Especially beautiful were the blues and pinks in the sky above the canyon. And yes, Ron Swanson is right.
I don’t know why. Why is it? Why is it that just walking from what seems to be an ordinary parking lot, to some trees, along a walkway, smiling at a few other tourists, then having this expanse open up before you just makes your heart stop, your throat tighten and brings tears to your eyes? Why? Is it just the landscape? Or is it the fact that you are here on the edge of this great hole in the ground, with folks from all walks of life, all backgrounds, all colors, shapes and sizes, and you’re all in this miracle, this mystery, in this wild, stupid, marvelous, gorgeous, puzzling, flawed, wonderful country – together?
And yes, that’s my mother up there in the header at the Grand Canyon, too. Sometime in the late 50’s.
