The breath of the desert

We reach the crest of the tortured rock ridge and start descending. The footing is tricky and I focus tightly on the path beneath my feet. A little voice comes from the backpack 'This is beautiful, Daddy', and I pause and lift my gaze.

The orange, brown, and yellow stone lifts and swirls around us. It seems at any moment the rock will unfreeze and we will be awash in this incredible landscape.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the dryness of the wind and letting the peace enter in. The sky is blue and demanding, etching the horizon with flawless precision.

I let the breath slowly out 'It is beautiful...'. and pick my way down to a sunken hollow filled with sand.

I gratefully unstrap the backpack, then lift him out and set him down. I lower myself and sit crosslegged propped against an orange ledge. He looks around then sits on my knee and nestles in. We share a slow moment of wonder till he leans forward and eases himself to his knees, then his belly.

He pulls his mittens off and starts building roadways and berms in the sand. I tilt my face to the sun, close my eyes, match my breath to the pace of the wind, and let go.