My Journey West pt. 2

           

My orientation group

The crisp Arizona air greets me as I attempt to crawl out of my sleeping bag to start our long day. Creek, a fellow student, joyfully sings as he rouses the rest of our group from their cozy sleeping spots. I pull my camouflage bivy sac back over my head to hide from Creek’s, all too happy, chorus lines. Poking my head out, I remind him that it is in fact 4:38 A.M. and he answers my crabbiness in song. Then a giggle escapes my sleepy body, I agree to get out of the warmth of my bag and join the rest of the group, soon, after coffee. Backcountry coffee is always a treat, a wonderful energy giving steamy cup, no cream or sugar, just caffeine. It invigorates a morning grump such as myself with enough spirit to start the day, and at the end of the hike--it’s just comfort.

                I turn on the red light on my head lamp and start to gather my needed gear for the day. I roll up my sleeping bag and compress it tightly into its sack. The smell of the forest soothes me as I perform my morning routine and brush my teeth, then help take down the tarps. Everyone around me busy cooking, cleaning, and packing. The light of the sunrise now begins to join my group and I, bringing to life the beautiful meadow, and the army of strong tall trees standing guard over us. Awe, is the only word suited to describe the feeling I had standing there, watching the sun rise, and the group of nine other students -- who I now call friends. I am proud to be right here in this green and serene place, with these amazing people, and my new chance for a change from the old ways. 

Creek and Emily under our tarp

A moment passes and a profound sorrow fills me. It has been eleven days since I last talked to my children. The sweet sound of my youngest child singing nursery rhymes or the cute chipmunk voice of my middle child would soothe my soul. My eldest has an understanding that well surpasses is young age, I close my eyes and can feel his arms around me. I miss them more than pen could adequately express on paper. I crave even the sound of their voices on the other end of a phone, or a letter with words of love and encouragement. I never thought I could miss anyone or anything so deeply. This is a part of the transformation, a challenge to stop the insanity of my old life.  I spend another moment in tranquil meditation and find the strength that I hold inside my soul. The sky is bright enough to turn my headlamp off, and I stare at the few lingering stars, those party animals, beautifully gracing the sky until after dawn. I turn and walk towards my friends and join them for breakfast before we embark on today’s amazing journey.

The monsoons were upon us!

We continued on our journey, trekking miles through the breathtaking Arizona wilderness. From the mountains that towered around me to the prickly Cats Claw waiting to attack us on the desert floor; we carried our heavy packs and hiked and learned about the treasures of this foreign land. The natural history itself is overwhelming. I had never imagined the desert to have such a complicated ecosystem. September is an odd time in Arizona. Some days reached scorching temperatures, while others were frigid and wet with big monsoon storms sweeping in. I learned to appreciate water in a way that made it sacred. Having grown up in the great lakes region we always had plenty of water, streams, and rivers. Now I sit on a rock and attempt to pump water out from a puddle so my companions and I have enough to get us to camp. So much in my life has changed. I stare out over the massive red rock that I am perched on and hope for the strength to make it another day.

yes, we actually were pumping water
out of a muddy puddle.

     

                Since I came to Arizona and started school. It has not been easy, it has been a challenge, and a difficult transition. From the moment I left Chicago and started my new life here, in Prescott I have worked hard to make this dream become a reality.

I think back to the days I would sit and the tears would run down my cheeks and onto the ground, and I felt helpless and trapped. I think back to my orientation and the struggle of being away from home, my children and having to build my muscles and courage. The start of the semester was no easier, homework and the lack of money pressured me in ways that made me wish I could give up and return to the place I wanted so desperately to leave.  I wiped up my tears and carried on. This was my dream after all. I was finally living it.

Next challenge was waiting for my children to finally arrive, and be with me, after such a long and hard separation. We would talk daily, but there was still a dark void in my heart. I have never been away from them for more than a few days. It had been months since I held them. I am thrilled at the adventures all of us will have together in our new home. I hear my children’s words encouraging me, loving me, supporting me, over and over. It is my dream, and it is happening, it is real, and I am living it. No matter how difficult the challenge, I never gave up, I never will. There is no worse prison than the one we make for ourselves with imagined bars created by our fears and self-doubt. I sat tapping my fingers on my kitchen table, and finally I heard a truck pull up! They are home, here finally, after four long months. They are home.

           

I found my wings.

     “Hurry up guys! I’m going to be late!” I yell. We all grab our backpacks pile into the Jeep and I drive away from our little house on the north side of Prescott. The sun in beating on the windshield and the truck seems stuffy, so I roll down the windows. The mountains in the distance are a peaceful site to me every morning. They tower high into the sky and touch the heavens. No more sky scrapers to stare at, just the majesty that nature herself has created. I pull up to my son’s school and my phone rings. He jumps out of the passenger side and forgets his hoody and an assignment, possibly, some crumpled white paper. I yell for him, but he is already too far into the tangled mess of high school students to hear me. I answer the call on its final ring. “Hi Daddy,” I cheerfully say. He asks about the children and about school. I happily report all good things; with the exception of the last few days of rather cool fifty degree weather. I let him talk to his two grand-daughters and they energetically tell him about their new world and the wonders of the southwest. The jeep is filled with lively chatter and giggles. My youngest recites the alphabet twice before the phone is returned to me. After a while of me talking about my classes and about how much I would like for him to visit I ask how the world up north looks and he simply replies “white.”

Together Again