Today I stole a few hours from my week and went south with my husband, son and Labrador. When I was fun-size me, I remember a woman my mom had hired to clean our chaotic house, sitting me down and explaining why my piano playing was terrible. She was listening to me brat-bang on the keys while she was dusting. She was a take no prisoners kind of woman. Very good at cleaning and even better at intimidating me. She told me if I wanted to get better at playing the piano I would have to make time to practice every day. Further, she explained shaking the dust rag at me, if I wanted time to practice, I would have to make time, no one would give it to me. I think I was seven. I said yes. I never did become any good at piano. But I remembered what that woman said. I make time. No one gives it to me.
Today we made time to be together in a new place. In this case Moonscape Overlook near Hanksville, Utah. I’ve lived in Utah for most of my life and I’ve never been. Then we ventured over to Factory Butte and Little Wild Horse Slot Canyon. Also, firsts for me. On top of all three places being new, they were also gorgeous, fascinating, warm, and not school or work. Even the rocks in my shoes felt good.
One of the things that struck me about the overlook was that was impossible to see until we were right up on top of it. Just miles of parched dirt and then the earth dropped off to a literal moonscape. The chiseled black guts of the earth for an unmeasurable distance. If I had stopped a half mile sooner, I would never have known it was there.
Once we got to the overlook my husband immediately wanted to walk out on a tiny rock outcropping and make me ill. I’m not a fan of heights. I love what I see from them. I just simultaneously think I, or someone else, is going to die while I’m enjoying the view. At the very same time I can be intensely glad I am there and intensely ready to step back from the edge. I have to constantly tell myself that my fears are irrational because they feel VERY rational to me.
By dinnertime I was home, talking to a person I love about love, or relationships, and I remembered how scary it was dating Quinn, my husband and best friend with tons of benefits. It was also ridiculously fun. Unfortunately, I had to keep both feelings if I wanted the second one. Even now, I have to keep going to get to the surprise overlooks, in between miles of miles of parched dirt, and I have to be able to let the afraid part of me come along. She’s always going to be with me. But she’s not driving. I’m leaving that up to the brat who injures harmless pianos.
