Papago Park in Phoenix harkens back to the days before air conditioning and the rise of the Valley; nestled against it are two of the city's fair jewels, the Desert Botanical Gardens and the Phoenix Zoo.
Friday night was Agave on the Rocks, a tasting fundraiser for the Desert Botanical Gardens. Lit sculpture and dramatic lighting dominated the walkways.
We wandered the trails for hours, drinking in the lights, grazing on the feasts and absorbing the sounds of conversations, music and nature. Enchanting and seductive at the same time; the darkness lent itself to the interpretation. In time my feet began to hurt, and my lower back ache, unaccustomed to standing for any length of time. It reminded me of last year, and the constant throb in my lower back.
Why was it hurting now? Why were my feet sore? It felt good sitting down and singing along with a Xicano band; getting up to leave my back twinged again. Hmmm...what was going on? The stress of the week catching up?
The next morning I woke up sore, like I had hiked instead of strolled. I decided to head to Dutch Bros for a White Annihilator with an extra shot of espresso on ice, and thought the walk might do me good. I stopped at the car to get my sunglasses, and laughed out loud. Who was I kidding?
The guilt crept in a little bit then. It was one city block. I had driven it. Driving back to the apartment I resolved to make up for it and went on a walk.
I purposefully made it longer, and was rewarded by a sign.
"Stop living in reality start living your dream." (A word is missing-which may be important, but in my case, is not.)
I know my dream. To go back to owning my own business. To control my destiny by what I put in.
Granted, I've never killed a man to watch him die, but hearing a train whistle blowing holds a mystique. I don't want to hang my head and cry because I let this opportunity slip by. These days are precious-an unexpected gift of time. What would I do with them?
As I contemplated that, I got ready for my next adventure: the zoo.
Twenty years ago this month, I was widowed at 24, with a 3 1/2 month old baby. In the weeks that followed I sought solace in Arizona, vacationing in Prescott and having a chance to be a new mom without the scrutiny of widowhood. On my return trip home I spent the morning at the Phoenix Zoo; my four month old baby delighted me in drinking water from a straw. With no social media to announce it, I recalled wanting to stand on the picnic table to let everyone know-I was so proud of my Little One. Instead tears poured down my cheeks, the wave of widowed grief splashing momentarily against my joy.
Then, as now, I faced the world without a partner. No cheerleader by my side.
But no devil's advocate, either.
My trip to the zoo was pure delight; the company incredible and just as enchanted as I.
Prickly Pear in bloom.
The day ended with a drive back to Prescott; I could have stayed another day but I chose to return home. Today I got my house in order, tomorrow I plot out my goals and my plan.
That's ok.
I have new dreams to make reality now.
Funny, my feet and back don't hurt anymore.
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