Late at night, we drive out into the wilderness. Park the car at the empty lot and walk the last few feet to the canyon's edge. It is absolutely, entirely, and completely quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your ears ring. Even the wind has died down. We make jokes about living dead, but at the ridge of the canyon, it is hard to be scared, anymore. A full moon bathes the eons in light, every fold in stark relief against the night, red rock outlining itself against snow and evergreen trees.
Not a single star falls while we stand there, staring at the sky. No matter. I've learned wishes come true in
more ways than one.
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