Reminiscent

Sometimes I miss Arizona. There was a certain rhythm to life there; it wasn’t the traditional four, but they still felt natural. We have to monsoons and the resultant flooding. We had our times of sunshine, where sixty-five degrees was frigid, and we had our harsh times. I never could adjust, but I still danced along. Though now years later, perhaps I really miss the life I had there. It is not the place that defines us but our human interactions. I remember the rain, but I more remember jumping up and down and yelling at my roommates to come outside. I remember feeling young and having everything new. Though sometimes I just miss Arizona. I miss Fourth Ave and the speed traps on Speedway, the way the Catalinas seemed grand to a Northern girl. Yet I remember a ridiculous dinner, an illicit celebration, my favorite friends drinking ice cream and reading my Calvin and Hobbes. We are human and thus so defined by our species. In my travels I have seen great ruins, but those were always built by humans; I have climbed mountains, but the trails were always made by men before me. Somehow Arizona was her people and not just my silly education.

2004-09-04

1/90 sec, f 3.0, ISO 64, 7.18 mm