What camera was I even carrying with me when I took this picture? I don’t even remember when it was taken. Over the past five years, I had traveled back and forth between Roswell, New Mexico and Las Cruces. Sometimes I would stop by White Sands, if time allowed. Often it did not. Those were the days. As frustrated as my job was at the time, I did enjoy it so, especially the long distances between communities: Not far enough to fly, yet almost too far to drive. But I love to drive. The long road.
Sometimes I will find lonely roads to take to return home from my job in the field. It’s not so easy now since there is a ten month old baby boy waiting for me, but when possible, I will drive a country road just to see what’s along the way. It’s different in New Mexico though. A bit more diverse in colors and land forms. Dramatic. Breath taking. Surreal. I like being out in the middle of that beautiful place alone for a while. My journal lays on the front seat with a pencil to sketch a picture, or a fountain pen to jot down my thoughts of the freedom of the openness. But I can’t. I just sit on the hood of the car and look around, listen, wait. And breath. I get lost in how the air and warmth of the sun feels on my skin. Once, I parked the car along side the road north of Carrizozo. I got out, sat on warm hood, and waited. I was there alone for a long time, say twenty minutes and no one passed by. I recalled some memories of a ride I took somewhere nearby with my dad. Faint memories. I must ask him sometime.