Beat The Clock.

September 21 - Desert

The desert is unforgiving, my grandmother used to say. Lounging in a lawn chair on the balcony of family apartment, gazing off into the California sunshine into a world seen only by her, she used to run her gnarled fingers along the black, frayed edge and tell me about her homeland on the other side of the world.

You must understand the land to truly be apart of the desert, she would tell me as a listened to her tales of an exotic place i could only imagine in my dreams. The land was unforgiving as all of its fertility has been stripped away through time and heat. Each day the sun beat down upon the sands with the wrath of a scorned god. And each night the cold wind settled over each grain of sand, swiping away the face the desert had molded for itself.

Yet, for all of its harshness, the desert has a hidden beauty. Stored away from the scorching rays of the sun, shadowed from the fierce, slashing winds, buried beneath layers of rock lies a secret. Deep within its core lies the source of its soul. Rivers from the times of the Old Ones dwell where no human can taint it waters.

As she stared off unto her world of lost sands, I would watch the deep lines of her face pull into an expression I would only later experience for myself.

"Will you go back?" I would ask, not knowing the pain the question brought to her person.

We would sit in silence for a while before she would turn to me, her dark eyes holding some much I wished to learn, and say, "No child. My body will never return, but heart will always be with it."

And as I ride across the vast hills of rich red sands, I hold an unadorned jar close to my chest, breathing in deeply. Finally, I could understand my grandmother's longing for home as I returned her to her heart.