goodbye Arizona

Goodbye, Arizona.

Here, I gave birth to four children, and now I leave you, taking three with me, holding hands, and one I hold in my heart. So many lessons here, thank you.

I remember when I first arrived here. The space was so different from what I was used to: so flat, vast, gray and brown. So unfamiliar, and I was scared and unsure. I did not drive and I did not see how I could walk to places, and my feet always yearn to touch the ground. I remembering peering out of the car window most curiously on our drive from the airport, trying to see if I will spot the saguaro blossoms that I had read about. I tried to feel for the pulse of the desert, but I failed.

First I learned where to get food. Next, where the post office was, and then the library, then the parks. Slowly, I made friends, and got to know people.

I noticed the houses were so brown, the earth so gray and dry. The leaves so small, the blossoms sometimes very reluctant. I missed the rain, large foliage and huge exuberant and colorful flowers. I shuffled my feet, impatient and puzzled at the lack of life here.

It took me some time but I realized that the desert is very much alive. It is not a neglected place, but it demands you to open your heart and your eyes at the same time. It requires that you have a deep curiosity and determination if ever you wish to experience the wonder of this place. It is not an overnight process, this unfurling of the heart and opening of the eyes, but everything takes time in nature, and so it is.

We've seen and done wonderful things here. We've experienced that the desert has much to offer, only we need to be attentive, and listen and look, and stop and breathe. If people have managed to live here for such a long time, then it is because they have learned to live with the uniqueness of this place, they adapt. They listened intently to the songs of nature and they danced in step.

I was truly humbled and amazed. I realized that the problem was not the desert, nor the tiny foliage that drove me nuts; neither was it the shades of never-ending brown's. It was my arrogance, thinking my environment needs to bend backwards and give me what I desire.

I bring away many wonderful memories of our hikes, our delightful discoveries and our songs on the hiking trails. I hear still the splash of the water when we arrived at the water-holes and I can hear still the animal sounds at night in the desert. I leave with deep gratitude of all the friends I have made here for their beauty and generosity, and their humor and of course I will recall fondly the collective groans during the summer months. I am thankful for all the people who have crossed our paths, even those who did it only once. Sometimes once is enough for a long-lasting impression that never fades, like that rattle-snake we once happened upon.

I know that these last days saying goodbye had been difficult, and sometimes I wonder where had your excitement for a new home gone? But the truth is that this is hard for me as well, I am just not having enough mind-space to process it all, and I can tell you that I feel intimidated that I am going out there where no one really knows me, and I wish i could just stay here and be surrounded by people who already know who I am and where I know where to get what I need. See, it's htat comfort zone thing again.

Hopefully we will remember the lessons that the desert has taught us and that the richness she had offered us will continue to fertilize the soil of our minds and hearts. I have high hopes that the friends we said good bye to will not disappear even as we physically leave this place. And in our new home, we shall remember to keep our hearts and eyes open, and listen.