This is what I always imagined when I thought of Death Valley — these salt flats which held the bragging rights for years of being the lowest place in the western hemisphere (until Laguna del Carbon was discovered). Standing there, you can look high up into the cliffs and see the marker for sea level.
Once there, we kind of stood around and nodded at each other. Perhaps the vast emptiness, lack of water, and loneliness got to our heads.
Yep. Things were getting desperate. We started hallucinating and swatting at the air.
When Paul and I were dating, he wrote me a letter. He said that, without me, he was like a loafer without its mate cast aside in the middle of a vast desert. He drew me a picture of it — the immense desert and a tiny, accurately portrayed penny loafer — alone.
I took a picture of this rock because it reminded me of that sketch Paul drew for me over twenty years ago.
Here we were, in the desert, not alone. Together. With our girls.
Thankful. Happy. Content.