THANKFUL FRIDAY

Sparse

8 Likes, 0 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "Sparse"

I walked all the way to Los Angeles. Along the way, I passed through isolated towns that consisted of run down diners and two-pump gas stations. Tumbleweeds the size of boulders rolled across the two-lane highway. Sometimes I would spot a roadrunner or jackrabbit. There were several miles where I was followed by a lone coyote. Every time I stopped to drink from my water bottle, he would sit and look off into the distance with an air of indifference. I passed an area of white sand and could see several dune buggies bouncing over the hills and could hear people whooping and hollering as the buggy leaped into the air. I just kept on walking. When I reached the outskirts of L.A., I had to cross an old bridge that was made from just random pieces of wood laid down here and there. I could see nails sticking out of some planks and crumbled edges of plywood. This was not a sturdy bridge, but I stepped out onto the first plank. I proceeded to make my way, creeping along slowely and carefully, sometimes having to leap over missing sections and just having to trust that I was landing on something solid.

But I made it across.

Once I crossed the bridge, I found myself in the most beautiful cemetery. The headstones and memorials were all pieces of art. The largest one that stood out in the middle of the cemetery was a large rounded horse with a large rounded person sitting on top. It looked like a sculpture by Diego Rivera except the person riding the horse was painted up as the most beautifully glorious drag queen with big blond hair and bright blue eyeshadow. I spent hours wandering around this cemetery, gazing at all the different headstones. I eventually made my way back to the center and sat down in front of the Diego Rivera like sculpture. Then I started to weep. It wasn’t that I was sad; I was just overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, the headstones and the people the headstones memorialized. It was all so stunning. I was overwhelmed with how this place honored those that resided there.

I woke up with tears still streaming down my face and thinking that the sight of that cemetery was truly worth crossing that scary bridge, because the walk itself was not a bad time. There was plenty to see as I walked along the highway. Sure, it was a long walk. The weather was unpredictable with hot sunny days and sudden rain storms. The wind blew constantly, swirling up dirt devils, but the landscape was beautiful. The sunrises and sunsets looked like paintings in the sky. Some times I would stop in one of those diners for a meal and I would chat with locals. I would be completely drawn into their stories they had to share about their lives and this place. I greeted every wildlife sighting with the wonder and fascination of a small child. It was truly a joy to be on this trek. Really, the only horrible part of that walk was crossing that bridge into L.A. It was the only time in my dream that I was terrified. My legs shook with each tentative step. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry. There were times I thought that I could not do this. I could not make it across this bridge. I was going to fall to my death.

Except, I didn’t.

I know full well what that walk to L.A. represents. I know what the truly horrible part is and I know that there is something truly beautiful and amazing on the other side of the truly horrible. I am thankful for the other side.