Red Rock

I am afraid of heights, too, you know. We climbed to the top rock and dangled our legs a thousand feet over the canyon floor, my nervous laugh echoed down the valley. My feet tingled. All day spent on two wheels, navigating slick rock and deep sand, our bodies ached and still we couldn't make ourselves stop.

Enormous red rock faces stood up straight on our side, reaching for the sky. On the other, a steep cliff to the bottom, the curves of the track like a miniature model below. The wild west stretched to the horizon and never ended, the sun beating down as it does.

This country built me, you know. It is in my veins, it is in my voice, it is in my bones. I am red rock a billion years in the making; I am wide open spaces and desert sun. We fall asleep early with aching muscles and battered limbs.

We are fine.