Prescott, Arizona is an area made up of wide open fields, purple mountains, and skies with ever rolling storms. Absolutely sweltering in the summer and feet of snow in the winter, it's a town that has captured my nostalgia.
Nostalgia has such a romantic ring to it. While in Arizona visiting my family last month, I was able to spend some much needed time with my grand-father. Last year his wife pasted away, and it has been a hard road to recovery for all of us. Some days it seemed, he didn't want to come out from under his sorrow. Add a few beers to that attitude on an empty stomach, and the atmosphere would become too much to bare. It was at those times that I would seek solstice outside.It is okay to morn the death of a loved one, but not to forget the living.
Escaping into these wide open spaces allowed me to revel in their beauty and balance: something that seemed to be lacking back at my grand-father's house. I desperately needed a break from the anger and resentment that loss that sometimes bring.
I love my grand-father dearly ("Grandpa Bear"). What I learned from my visit is that there is a strange sort of masochism to love. It takes a vulnerability to know that someday (or to say that there is a possibility), that person whom you have allowed into you heart - be it a lover, a friend or a family member- will no longer be around. It takes a bravery to throw that knowledge to the wind and to love anyway.To fear the unknown, be it in love or death is nothing to be ashamed of. But simply, don't let it isolate you.
