Family and friends enveloped me with love and showered their kindness on me for my birthday. In the words of Oliver Gold Smith, I often think our lives are lived out in what is called the ‘vale of obscurity’, but this essence of living and giving bathes me in gratitude. This Thanksgiving, I counted my blessings with joy, thanked everyone for enabling a fruitful life and continued to ponder on the mysterious power of love.
I don’t care what physicists have to say about it, or whether the teenagers in my life roll their eyes, it is love that makes the world go around.
“So, what do you want as a birthday gift?”, asked the children dancing around me excited. I had seen and marveled their cards, and they looked on expectantly as I struggled to find a wish they could fulfill.
Finally, I said, “Sometime this year, I want to go a national park I have never been to before.“
“Ugh! I don’t want to go another national park!”, moaned the daughter.
“Well…thank you for that marvelous gift my dear. Like Jane Austen says: They are much to be pitied who have not been given a taste for nature early in life. ”, I said.
She had the grace to blush and said, “Good job at the sarcasm Amma! But another nature themed vacation? Seriously?”
I nodded unabashed at this less than enthusiastic response. I had my eyes set on two national parks that I had been planning and dropping for the past 10 years: Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon National Park.
“Why? It will be lovely, we can go hiking, running and playing.”, said her little brother skipping at the prospect of the great open.
“Oh please!” was the only response she deigned to grace us with. Not one to mince words, she made it clear that she was a reluctant camper, and that I had pulled a low trick in asking for a National Park trip as a birthday gift. I chuckled. A grunt told me that the matter was under consideration, and I left the matter to rest for the time being.
The next morning we scrambled to school in the usual fashion. One snack pack lay forgotten on the kitchen counter, two clean socks had flown through the car window hitting the car-driver squarely in the cheek (Appa! Duck your head, Socks incoming!) , and three sheets of loose paper trailed the way to the car. I tootled cheerfully as the car left the garage, ‘Have a nice day! Remember – next week is off!’
That evening, the daughter came back beaming benevolently. Nibbling on a cheese sandwich of her own making, she said, “You know? It might be lovely in Zion national park this time of the year. “
The son and I exchanged quizzical looks at this volte-face.
Apparently, one of her close friends in school had said that the national parks in question were beautiful and that she would love an opportunity to go back there again. That evening, the banal national-parks-again tune had changed to a vibrant symphony of Zion-is-beautiful, but Bryce-is-much-prettier. I smiled to myself. Oh! The beauty of friendship. I only hope she continues to have level headed and smart friends, was my private thought.
The daughter’s friend was right: Zion had a majestic grandeur to it, while Bryce Canyon can only be described as breath-takingly beautiful. I had never imagined sparse vegetation and sheer rock face to be this splendid. I have always been more a lover of trees, and streams. But Zion and Bryce made me think of beauty in a whole other manner. It was as if in one short trip across 4 states(CA, NV, AZ & UT), we had been transported to another planet.
A land where hoodoos made magnificent shapes against the blue sky,
A place where bristlecone trees cling to cliffs
Towering over the abyss of erstwhile marine trenches,
Where overhead, peregrine falcons swoop swiftly upon their prey
Hundreds of feet below in the rust colored labyrinths.
It is a vibrant diorama sparkling underneath the weak wintry sun in the desert
An ecosystem that has seen it all, and still persists.