The only trees I remember seeing in Arizona are the tall pine trees that we slept underneath after

visiting the Grand Canyons North Rim. The kids and I had driven all day sandwiched between towering lazy red hot rocks that have laid baking in the Arizona sun for millions of years. At seeing a signpost for Marble Canyon, I slowed down and turned in knowing we all could use an opportunity to standup and stretch our legs. After pulling into a parking spot, I looked down at my trucks thermostat; it said the exterior temperature was 106. With both a dire need to get out from behind the steering wheel and a daunting sense of foreboding, I looked up and out the trucks windows. The air about us just glowed with the red coloration of the rocks all around us. I wondered how on earth we were going to sleep that night. I figured if the sun and heat were hot enough to bake the rocks, putting us in a nylon tent would certainly have the same baking effect only our tent would probably melt into our skin before we were baked. With no money to afford a hotel as a way to avoid being baked alive in our tent (being it was the height of vacation season we couldnt have gotten one anyway), I knew that there was no alternative but to find a camping spot and hope that somehow we would be able to make it through the night. As I stepped out of the truck, the heat pressed against me with blistering force. We slowly walked toward and then across the bridge platform that overlooked the deep chasm. I tried to breathe in the hot dry air and felt my body slowing down to the same rhythm as the visible ripples in the air that were created by the intense heat. My children were all being crushed by those heat ripples as I lead them on. This seems so cruel. How is there life here? Look through the slats in the bridge railing, guys. Look how far down this canyon drops. This is nothing compared to the Grand Canyon. Wait till you see that. Though they all turned to peer in the direction I pointed, not one of the four uttered a single response to the geographical phenomenon that lay in front of them. Their enthusiasm was apparently being smothered by the suns oppressive rays. I've never been to the Grand Canyon before. The last time I had been through Arizona I had been with my dad and I was nine years old. We had come down here to see my greatgrandmother whose winter-home was just outside of Phoenix in a community of older people. All the yards were covered with blue rocks and green rocks and slightly reddish maroon rocks. They drove around in golf carts and had orange and lemon trees in their yards. I remember thinking then that this had to be the coolest place in the world to live. I also remember the vistas as we drove through the state: how the horizons would go on and on. My eyes had danced between the rocky ravines and the vast open spaces. My gaze was pulled longingly across the
ARIZONA PINES 1

hills and up into the mountains. My eyes skipped across the tumultuous twisting and turning water as it raced for lower ground. My focus, like the ball in a pinball machine, would spring from cactus to rock to lizard. In a funny way it made me feel so insignificant, so small. As a child you already feel small. It made me feel even smaller, which impressed upon me the sheer magnitude and potential contained within our world. But there I was, an adult now, about to take my own four kids out to see the Grand Canyon, something I did not have the chance to see when my dad had brought me to the Southwest as a child. But, this place wasnt it. This wasnt my destination. I turned us all on our heels and headed straight for the cool relief of the trucks air conditioning. We drove on: over the small Canyon on a twisting winding road that circled around those burning red rocks, this way and that way. Yet, what I noticed was that we just kept crawling upward. Soon I began to notice that the temperature gage on my truck started to drop. In a matter of sixty minutes, it went from 106 down to 104 down to 101 and after about an hour and a half we actually dropped below 100. Up and up we went, little by little, sometimes crawling. As my mind and my nerves inhaled the miracle of the elevation-to-temperature relationship, I prayed for those hills to just keep taking us up. Soon I began to see scatterings of pine trees, pathetic looking pine trees, scrawny small, very thinly adorned pine trees that were seemingly growing straight out of the rock. Jack sat upfront, my navigation man, looking at the map and referencing our camping book for the camp ground I thought might be best based on its location to the North Rim. Once he realized that we were passing the road that lead to our campground area, I excitedly proclaimed to the kids that the Grand Canyon sat only about 30 minutes in front of us. The temperature gage read 84. The North Rim was jacked with pine trees and quaint cabins that created a weaving path that led us by foot to the end of the earth. Excitement rushed through my body with tsunami force, making every sensory receptacle acutely awake with an archetypal, yet, perhaps, antiquated anticipation that comes just before one witnesses the formation of the earth as we know it, an icon of history and culture, an anomaly that is associated with the development of an American identity. Without a very deep penetrating history, Americans sometimes seeks superficial values to create their cultural identity. But, this Canyon loudly and clearly affirms that this land was here long before we were aware of it. Ones country, ones history, is so much more grand than the mere formation of a nation. Right then and there I felt privileged to live in a country that contained this landmark, a pillar of natures majesty. I couldnt help but feel proud that I get to grow up and live in such a place with such an amazing geographical history.
ARIZONA PINES 1

Once again, I began to feel small. The topography of the land proved how long the earth had been forming itself before my existence. My issues and daily struggles seemed so pathetic by comparison to a million years of platonic plate movement and the hundreds and billions of years ago when the earth stood frozen in an ice age and the land I now stood on lay frozen in blocks of ice and snow. I knew we must be getting close to the glory of the canyon when my vision became blurred by the resplendent air that sat over the canyon. We approached a stone wall no higher than my mid-thigh where others stood gazing outward seemingly staring upon some activity. One person stood atop the wall staring outward as if he was also watching the same show as the others. "Oh my God, I breathed. Here it is kids! Here is the North Rim of the Grand Canyon!" I approached the wall squeezing tight the hands of my two youngest kids. As we walked up closer to the wall, an element of fear began to creep through me alongside the excitement. We gazed out across the expanse. I looked down to see a nothingness that fell away and Earth that just ceased to exist somehow, almost as if by magic. We were not even at the official post of the North Rim yet. Two people down, the man who stood on the wall was looking out and laughing with his friends about something. I could not imagine what could possibly be funny while standing on a wall over a death cliff. I was caught between being mesmerized by that which stood before me, all the splendor, the Majesty, the inconceivable, the impossible, the I've never seen anything like it before in my life and a sudden death-gripping fear. I didnt like that man who was standing on the wall. We moved on. As we walked on, the interlacing cabins and pine trees that lined the ever twisting and turning path we obediently followed, dissipated into a combination of natural rock and patches of concrete. Stepping out of the pines, my eyes followed this new landscaping as it fell away slowly yet rapidly and then disappeared into the vast expanse of the Grand Canyon. Right before the slope became dramatic, stood a bench, angled now as if it were a chairlift dumping its passengers down the snow slopeonly this slope could never be skied: this slope was made of sharp jagged rock with a sporadic scattering of small brambly bushes and trees. What a great photo op, I nervously smiled. "Okay kids, stand right here by the bench and don't move. Jack, hold on to Peter and Jesse's hands tightly. Rayna, stand right in front of Jack. Don't move kids. Stand very still. Jack, do NOT step backwards. Stay right there. Don't get excited. Don't move too fast. And if you need something, you need to walk towards mom. Do NOT go up to the edge and look. There is no
ARIZONA PINES 1

fence. Theres no gate. There is NOTHING to stop you from falling off; so, do not move fast or any closer to the edge." A sense of utter irresponsibility and neglect washed over me as I slowly backed away from my kids who stood there on the sloping, rocking, teetering edgejust for a photo. Their fifteen-foot distance from the rolling edge of the cliff, a slide leading to their imminent death, seemed like nothing more than centimeters. This is probably the irresponsibility that my husband always talked about. This is the irresponsibility that I feel guilt and shame over. This is the irresponsibility that other people see in me, which is why they didn't want me to take this trip in the first place. I am not to be trusted. I am a fool. I am dangerous. I am selfish. I am immature. I am irresponsible. Most of all, I am a terrible mother! A lady walked up next to me and said, Why don't you go and join your kids. I'll take a picture for you." I was shocked. Did she actually think it was normal for me to bring my kids up here? Did she actually think that this was a great opportunity for a family photo? She was going to allow me the opportunity to be in the picture with my kids. I felt somewhat renewed. That is, until I walked over to join them. The earth started to wane with each footfall. I felt increasingly uneasy as I felt the temperament of the sand that quietly sat on top of the smooth rocky ground creating an even more unstable surface. I stepped behind Jack and Rayna, quickly pushing the boys in front of them. Then, putting my arms around Jack and Rayna, I lift my head up and smiled, trying to hide the fear that raced through veins. The majesty of the canyon was starting to fade into an image of death in my heart. Man I wish I was alone here so I could appreciate what I saw, so I could take in the splendor, so I could feel the impact of this place. But with my kids here, the impact was diminished under a heavy cloak of fear. Based on the map that I had, there was a nice short walking trail close by. I thought what a great idea. We needed to move about, use our legs, as we were in the car all the time. I figured this was exactly what we needed. I grabbed one of each of my younger boys hands and told Jack to hang on to Rayna. The path started out not far from where we had stood for the picture. As the path started to leave the platform area, the right side of our path grew into a wall of sheer rock as the left side became a sheer drop off. "Jack, make sure Rayna stays on the inside of the path, on the wall side, and dont let go of her hand. Look at every step you're taking. Make sure that you don't trip or slip because this path is not very wide: if you fall, Jack, then you will fall over the edge and you'll take Rayna with you. Whatever you do, walk with you and Rayna as close to the wall as you can. Hang onto her hand super tight. Be prepared for her to trip. If she trips, try to keep your standing, just grab a
ARIZONA PINES 1

hold of her. Whatever you do, don't let her push you or push off against the wall. Rayna, do not touch the wall. Walk next to Jack. Look at every step you're taking. Be very careful. Do not trip. Do not slide. Do not fall" My grip on the boys hands tightened more and more. I was sweating. I could feel the beads of salty sweat on my forehead and under my eyes. I wanted to wipe away the sweat, to erase any and all evidence that proved how uncomfortable I was, how scared I was. This was supposed to be fun, amazing; yet, here I was, sweating with fear. As sweat ran down the small of my back, I began to fear that my hands were becoming slippery with sweat, too. If I was going to fall, my plan was to throw them against the rock wall. That way, at least, I would fall alone. I cannot take them with me. But, I couldnt do this with if my hands were too slippery. What if Peter tripped and there was so much sweat between our hands I couldnt hang on to him and he fell? What if Jack slips or trips? He's only 11. It's what a kid does. You don't know. He won't know how to navigate this and be careful. He has no idea. He would take Rayna with him. His automatic reaction would be to tighten his grip on whatever he had before plummeting down this rock face. Jack, I need you to stop walking. Turn around but put Raynas hand in your other hand before doing so. Do not try to turn the two of you around at one time. I, on the other hand, took my two boys in a close tight circle, knowing that if one of them slipped off the edge, I was prepared to grab them and hold them for dear life. I was braced. I was ready for the worst to happen. "Okay, Jack grab her hand with your other hand and do a one-eightyonly you! Then, using both your hands turn Rayna around. Keep her against the rock wall and move VERY SLOWLY! Rayna, don't move on your own; wait for Jack to move you. There was nothing I could do for them if something should happen. I would have to just stand there and watch. Oh god, what had I done? By the time we had gotten back up to the top, the dread and fear in me had drained the blood from my face and my sweat had turned cold. To say the least, I was unhappy and disillusioned. We walked straight over to the gift shop so I could throw my children with their measly money into finding some fun little souvenir to prove that they had been to the North Rim of Grand Canyon. Something I didn't get out of my childhood and something I thought that this trip could provide for my kids. Soon the late afternoon sun illuminated the Canyon walls into brilliant shades of crimson red and radiant shades of orange. We had left the gift shop and now stood looking out at the
ARIZONA PINES 1

color-spectacle through tall glass windows in the observation room. A flurry of bodies either sat or stood in pods all around us, talking excitedly while holding onto iced drinks and looking at menus as they waited to get into the restaurant. I was overcome with jealousy. I couldn't afford to buy myselfnever mind myself and my four kidsa refreshing drink in this really cool place, never mind any food. We walked outside, through 14-foot glass encased doors that took us to a stone patio that looked like something out of a medieval castle. For a few moments, I stood awkwardly looking around, trying to understand where the five of us needed to move to in this, yet again, very busy space, what were people doing out here, were we even supposed to be out there. As I stood desperately scanning the patio for direction, I felt an overwhelming sense of not-belonging, of being some kind of misfit or outsider to this club of confident and knowledgeable adults who, unlike me, obviously were in control of their lives. I saw a small space by the rock ledge that walled people from the ________ -foot descent to the canyons floor. Isnt that amazing, you guys? Look how big this canyon is! What do you guys think? Looking at their faces I couldnt tell if they were completely uninterested or at a loss for the specific words that could express what they were feeling standing in the presence of this magical place that, up till now, had been the stuff of their imaginations and their fantasies if they were even lucky enough to have been able to imagine such a thing. I looked at Jack and was overwhelmed with the desire to reach for him, pull him into me, and hold him so tight. What a wonderful child he was. So willing, so helpful, such a god-send to my life in so many ways. Hed been with me through so much over the years. He stood looking out with an expression of near confusion. What was he seeing? What was he thinking? Jack went wherever the whims and wills of others around him pulled him, and he went without complaint, but rather, with pleasant encouragement and support. But, he was never one to share many of his thoughts. He was too old to only be eleven. Beautiful child. To the right of my vision I caught sight of an unlikely path that seemed to be leading to a narrow outcropping of rock that jutted precariously into the canyon. Looking closer, I noticed that there were people walking on the path. I turned to the group of happy vacationers that was closest to me and pointing to the strange rock outcropping, I asked, Excuse me; I dont mean to interrupt, but do any of you happen to know where that path leads? They said there was a small glass-bottomed balcony at the end of the path, whos unique and extreme apex offered its visitors the crowning point of the North Rim. I watched those daredevils, those free people, the ones young enough to not be afraid yet, the ones without children in tow behind and beside them, the ones who hadnt made any of my mistakes yet, so they were still unafraid. I watched them make their way along the precarious ridge; there was no
ARIZONA PINES 1

wall of rock on either side, nothing but a thin strip of slightly treaded earth, the only footpath across the ridge that stuck out like a peninsula into the canyon. God, I was so far from their reality. I was one of them once. I climbed rock cliffs in New Zealand. I was a daredevil. I bungee jumped 252 feet in Queensland. I hiked up a mountain just outside of Christchurch without a path to guide my way, without gates or walls or fences to protect me from the elements, just me and the natural world, free to intermingle with each other. There was a time when I had been free to take chances and to live life by my rules. I explored the Western beaches of Costa Rica and danced in the San Jose clubs. I sailed between the islands off the northern tip of New Zealand and chased Kiwi birds across moon-lit fields for Stewart Islands Department of Conservation. Ive seen the rare yellow-eyed penguin and swam with a Sea Lion while diving. Ive sunbathed at low tide on giant bolder found on a quiet beach in Nicaragua. But that was not me now. I stood looking out watching them, unconsciously my hands still gripped my two youngest. Turning my attention back to my kids, I wondered how I was going to tell them that I could not afford to buy them a drink in front of all these people. They were telling me that they were hungry and wanted me to get them some food. If I were alone, if I didn't have kids here, I wouldn't mind being hungry. I could handle it. But the kids can't and because they can't, I felt like a bad mom. I hated that most of all about parenting. Everything that I could put up with, handle, or deal with, seemed normal and fine and acceptable. But these same things suddenly made me a bad person as soon as I became a mom. How did people live in the past? How did they manage to be good parents in the past without our expensive car seats locked into big SUVs, without air-conditioning or sufficient heat, and hot cooked meals made out of enriched white flour and high fructose corn syrup? How did they manage to be good parents? Or were they all just bad parents who did the best considering what they had? This is all I have. I have nothing more. I just wanted my kids to see the Grand Canyon. And I've got nothing more than this to offer them. Is it not good enough? And because this is all I've got, does that make me a bad mom? Xena, Warrior Princess, didnt have children. Looking out and into the great expanse of the canyon, I exhaled and felt a great weight come down upon me. Looking at my kids so patiently standing at the wall, I gulped down my sense of dejection; then, lifting my head up against the weight, I put on a smile, and exclaimed: Okay, let's go, you guys. There's nothing more we can do here; plus, we need to get our camp spot set up. I will never take my children to the Grand Canyon again.
ARIZONA PINES 1

Glad to be driving away, disillusioned, yet still mystified by what I had seen, we headed back towards the campground that we knew was supposed be down the seemingly deserted road we had passed only a couple hours ago. Are you sure this is the road, jack? I mean I saw the sign, but holy moly! Honestly the road looked like a road out of a TV show or movie where somebody would drive down it to dump a dead body. But as we drove, the pine trees grew thicker and thicker and greener and greener. My truck thermostat said that it was 76. Once we found the campground, I pulled up in front of a cabin that looked to the camp ground office. I jumped out of the truck and ran in to pay my $10 fee for a camping spot. I got a map of the campgrounds, jumped back in the truck only after buying some jiffy pop popcorn for fun to eat over the campfire that night. We drove around looking at the various places that we could camp seeing the big RVs and the people sitting in their lawn chairs out front with carpets underneath them. One part of me wondered why, if they were going to live such a posh life, would they camp in the first place. Why not just stay at home? The other part of me, was utterly jealous of their accommodation, of the TV that flashed its blue light out the large windows, of the mattress that awaited them, of the toilet and shower that sat right there inside the safety of their structurally solid camper. I looked on with an edge of envy as I saw the blue flickering light of occasional TVs inside these homes. I thought how comfortable and cozy and relaxed they are; whereas, I had four kids that I have to somehow take care of; I have a tent to put up; I have to figure out how to get them to the bathroom, and how to collect up water, and how to get them comfortable and safe and happy. I drove around and around and couldnt find a camp spot that was an obvious camp spot. As my nerves began to rise, I suddenly cranked the wheel and drove straight into the forest. Bumping around, I came to a stop when the trees grew too dense to allow the width of my truck to pass between them. The childrens faces were priceless! What are you doing? Jack asked with alarm once his body had stopped bouncing between the center counsel and the window. Why, Im finding us a camping spot, silly, I said with great joy. Well, what are you all waiting for? Lets get out. As we all pilled out of the truck, the days light shifted into a twilight that penetrated softly through the branches of the tall ancient pines. We grabbed as much stuff as we could and took off on foot to look for the perfect spot to pitch our tent. Into the welcoming arms of the coniferous forest we trod, unafraid and determined. There! I excitedly exclaimed, pointing just ahead. We all rushed upon the small clearing, which had just enough room for our tent and was inclined just enough so that our heads
ARIZONA PINES 1

could be slightly higher than our feet without being uncomfortable. Unlike the last week of pitching our tents on the stubborn rocky ground of the Southwest, this camp spot was covered in a soft bed of pine needles. Quickly Jack and I maneuvered all of our items to this camp spot while the three youngest kids played, kicking balls at the trees and whooping with joy every time they rickoshayed off a tree. Once Jack and I had pitched the tent and laid out our sleeping bags, I grabbed the cooking gear and set it out. Then Jack and I found a picnic table not too far away and together he and I carried it over to our spot. There was not another person insight. As I lit the burners of our two-burner propane cooktop and worked with Jack to start a fire in a pit, I looked around and wondered if everyone on earth had just fallen away and my kids and I were the only ones left. There was something romantic about that thought; something about that thought wrapped me in a blanket of safety and security. I felt, for a moment, like I could just be. With the fire started and the last of our water heating up in a pan on our cooktop, the five of us went off navigating through the tall pines, in search of a water source and bathroom facilities. Such a pleasant contentment settled deep within me as listened to sounds of our feet treading across the soft open forest bed. The air is so soft and reassuring beneath the pines. They create the most romantic atmosphere. It's as if you're in a house, but not just any house, the best kind of house: a house in the wild, crafted by the hands of nature. A house in and of nature feels so much safer than a house made by humans. It took us less than five minutes of walking before we saw the water pump. There were some people standing nearby laughing and talking with water jugs in hand. I asked them how close we were to the bathroom facilities. They said that the close ones were out of order and so the only other ones were back out by the main check-in house. One of the things I look forward to (no matter how crude the facilities might be) is not squatting to do one's business. Having the convenience of clean toilet paper and not having to worry about the effects one's excrement might have on the local wild life were also benefits of these bathroom facilities. But for whatever reason, it didn't seem to bother me as much as I thought it might. There must've been something in those pines, the warm air of twilight, the soft carpet of pine needles on the forest floor, the stillness of the air around us mixed with the dancing branches that waved to the winds rhythm so far above us, the mysteries and secrets that only the forest knows. All of it beckoned me, called to some inner child, comforted me from the inside out, spoke an ancient language I seemed to understand. There was something in those pines that made me feel excepted, vindicatedlike I was enough. And, in just being myself, having the courage to follow my desire to just hang out with my kids and share this experience with them, I
ARIZONA PINES 1

was a part of this beautiful moment/place, something much bigger than me, something only accessible because I had the audacity to try. That night, while the kids finished eating, I pulled out my little green travel journal. I simply wrote:
8-1-09 The canyon scared the crap out of me! Never again will i ever bring a child under 15 to the Grand Canyonthat is all i have to say about that other than to mention that it is so magnificent words cannot describe its majesty and grandeur! BEAUTIFUL BEYOND EXPRESSION!! Truly unreal Great meal of barbeque lilwheenies, mashed potatoes, and milk. I have never loved milk more! Jack built a great fire we all sat around and ate our dinner GREAT FIRE. GREAT FOOD. NO BUGS. GREAT FAMILY

With our bellies full, Jack and I grabbed the Jiffy Pop and called the younger kids to come and watch us make popcorn over the camp fire. After multiple attempts to cook Jiffy Pop over the fire, burning one pan after another, Jack and I were belly-laughing at our ridiculous inability to figure out this seemingly simple task. Something that should've been an unassuming undertaking, I couldn't do. Here I was taking my kids on an extended trip across country, in the process of driving 5825 miles with my four kids and practically no funds, and I couldn't even cook jiffy pop over a campfire. The irony of that failure against the backdrop of this trip and my life was too much and pushed me right over the edge of self-judgment and criticism. I no longer felt sad or regretful or like a failure. Right now, life was simplerit was just funny. That night as we laid on the soft bed of Pine needles, all curled up together in the cool 74 air, I was woken by a nightmare of my children falling off of cliffs. As I lay there with fear pulsing through me, I wrestled with remorse, knowing how peaceful I had felt when I had gone to sleep. And then I heard the sound of horses. The sound was initially quite startling as it was so close; I could hear their breathing as they raked the ground and snorted at the night. Then I remembered earlier in the evening as we
ARIZONA PINES 1

were making camp, I had noticed an old-style wooden fence not too far off from where we pitched our tent. The other side of the fence had no trees at all, just a wide open field. The horses must've stood at that fence line for the rest of the night as my dreams intermingled with their mauling at the ground and they're snorting the night. What were they thinking? What did they see in those pines? I wondered if the Pines brought them that same sense of peace and harmony that it had brought me. In the morning as we packed up our tent and carried our gear back to our truck, I was sad to leave this place, this little treasure off the seemingly deserted road, hidden just off the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

ARIZONA PINES