The Grand Canyon

My sister and I always wanted to travel growing up, but coming from a lower class family and becoming teenage mothers, we’ve never gotten the opportunity. She always said that she wanted to see the Grand Canyon but surprisingly that was never on my list. I wanted to see what was outside of our borders. I never wanted to stay in it much less see more of it. I’m 27 now and my sister died six years ago. I’ve never been quite the same mentally or emotionally but now I take care of her children and mine, gratefully. I’ve believed since then that I needed to somehow live and experience for the both of us, even buying those gross chocolate covered cherries she loved to somehow keep her alive. It’s like I think that buying stuff she loved would somehow keep her spirit around, knowing I don’t really believe in things like that. Which almost makes me mad at her for making me buy this god awful candy.

I decided finally that I would see the Grand Canyon. I’m not sure still if I decided to do it for her peace or mine, but I felt a strong urge to go nonetheless. I saved up enough cash over six months and drove 28 hours to the Grand Canyon and stopped everywhere I could on the way. One memorable place in particular I stopped at was Cadillac Ranch, I was stopped by a stranger and offered spray paint to contribute to the years of paint layers made before me. It didn’t take me but a second to decide what to spray. I painted cherries for Ashley.

I was told by a friend that I should go to the Grand Canyon early to see the sun rise over the canyon, watch the gaps and crevices fill with sunlight slowly, and, I wanted to, Truly, but I overslept. My sister was never an early riser so I felt it was better that way, honestly she would have wanted it that way. I ended up getting up around noon and was on my way through the park, though it took longer than expected with everyone stopping or slowing their cars as soon as they passed a deer. I followed the crowd to the entrance and there it was. This great pit that had mesmerized my sisters for years. Seeing it, I loved and hated it. Loved it for my sisters sake but hated it for so many different reasons. I hated it for not growing legs and bringing itself to my sister when she was alive. I hated it because I had some irrational fear that if this brought my sister some kind of peace by finally going then whatever idea of her spirit was with me would float on into some unreachable eternity. I hated it because I felt like I didn’t deserve to see it. I never cared to, and the person who did would never get to with her own eyes. I knew these were all aimless thoughts but I couldn’t help but think them because, truthfully, the Grand Canyon was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, I knew that, but it felt more like the butt of an existential joke that I wasn’t in on and less like an age old majesty standing the test of time. I don’t regret going nonetheless. I felt some bit of weight lifted off my shoulders, as selfish as that sounds. I saw what Ashley kept going on about throughout the years and maybe, hopefully, I’ll get to tell her about it one day. For now though, I have to pack up. I have a long drive back home.