Out there, the desert seemed to be everywhere. Water was precious. It gave meaning to me. I felt it wash over my skin as I jumped into baby blue Lake Powell. I remember rolling through the waves like a seal, the crimson cliffs TOWERING above me. The red rock served as a constant reminder that the desert was still out there, thirsty and dangerous. Without water, I would have withered.
It is good to remember the truth of things. For even when a tiny sliver of truth remains, it will live on. The Midwest ruins the importance of water. It seems to be everywhere.
Yet, there are many things that are missing here. And if I can find them here, I am sure they will course over my rough soul just as the smooth waters of Lake Powell once coursed over my rough skin.