I’ve been gone for quite a while. I know that you were wondering where I went.
“What?” You ask, blinking. “You weren’t here? I didn’t even realize!”
Wonder no longer, dear friend! For I have returned in triumph! And I have a story to tell. With pictures.
“Um, yay?” You ask.
So I went to my parent’s house for a week and a half, which was awesome. It was before the fires started and now they’re breathing in ash and smoke every day, but thankfully they don’t seem to be in the fire’s path. Then I went on a trek. In the wilderness. For three days. In a prairie skirt.
“Why?” You ask, aghast. And frankly, I don’t blame you. It’s crazy. It was crazy!
A group of people took some youth out in the middle of the desert to pull handcarts for 20 miles. It was to remind us of our pioneer ancestors and to show the kiddos that they can do difficult things. No telephones, no computers, no iPods.
It was hard. Hard as sin. But the kids were amazing and most didn’t complain, although they limped out afterward with hurt hips and hairline fractures and sore knees. We knew what exhaustion was.
Oh, and blisters. Tons of blisters.
These are my Trek Feet. I left with a nice pedicure and came home as rag-tag as you can get.
But you know what what amazing? The kids stepping up. Hanging out with some pretty awesome youth. We told ghost stories and made fun of each other and kept an eye out for snakes together. And after walking for hours and hours one day, we staggered onto one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw.
That, my friends, is the Grand Canyon behind us.
Cool experience. I’m glad I went. But man oh man, I missed having an icy pop in hand and stilettos on my feet.