To Wonder about Wandering

Driving west on I-40 is like watching Mother Nature get out of bed in the morning and stretch. Once you cross the Mississippi River, you can see as she begins to reach for the edges, extending and weaving around the occasional town and cattle ranch. The farther you travel she sweeps out in the vast horizon, buttes begin to ascend around you, and the land dots with juniper trees.  As you arrive in the desert, there is only her, and you are in awe of her presence.

It's impossible to not have some feelings of wanderlust on trips like this. After some time in the day to day, I begin to crave any landscape that doesn’t look like home. My daydreams begin to be filled with seeing new things, new to me of course; old to the universe. This most recent trip out west I became aware of our busy-ness. We traveled each day campsite to campsite, overlook to overlook, trailhead to trailhead; but as we journeyed, the footsteps of those before me seemed to get louder.

 I began to wonder, who had wandered here before me? I thought about those that stood in awe of these views the week or even the day prior. Who were they? What were they seeking? Why were they here? I wondered about those that came long before us, those that settled the land. I thought about their hardships, their families, their dreams. Did they find the respite for the religious freedom so many of them desperately sought? Mostly, I wondered about those that truly knew the land, the native tribes that walked in the areas now only to be seen from overlooks and viewpoints. I wondered about their petroglyphs, desperate to understand what the ancient had to say. What must it have been like to journey among the sandstone?

I wished that I had more time, more time to honor and sit with all the memories that the land holds. I wanted more time to wonder about the sacrifices and changes that the land was witness to. As we become a part of the lands that we wander, a part of its history and spirit; I wonder, who will wonder about me?

-Alyssa