arches || moab, utah
we were gone for almost two months, but there was something about that particular night that made it one of the most vivid of the trip for me. I remember that warm Moab, Utah air rushing in through the open backseat windows. Abbs and I were like two newly adopted shelter dogs, hanging our messy heads out the windows. mom was in the passenger seat, dad had his hands on the steering wheel; i could see the wind dancing in his curls.
we rounded a corner and a motorcycle streaked past my window. no helmet; a ripped tank top filled up like a sail, flapping. he revved his engine and the sound ripped right down the belly of that canyon. the kind of sound you could probably feel in your chest if your feet were attached to that same ground.
"that's like the ultimate freedom" i said. mom reminded me of the dangers of motorcycles, but still got what i meant.
it was so dry. dust bellowed up behind every passing pick up like plumes of smoke. The light played hide and seek with the rock formations, and the shadows of the sandstone walls swallowed us in and out of lower temperatures, looming like giants. we got out at park ave's trail head, and it was twilight and silent. and we were staring down the wash at purples and reds.
and i stood there like the wee, starry-eyed child i be, staring up up up at so much big big big.