Santa Fe, New Mexico

I left for New Mexico after allowing myself a longer stay in Flagstaff than expected. (Though I was thrilled to be amongst my friends, local coffee shops, and the San Francisco peaks, I needed to get home to my family; the land of enchantment was urging me to hit the road once more.) I had planned to catch a ride back to the neighbor state with someone using rideshare on Craigslist, but schedules didn't line up, so I was dropped at the Greyhound station by my Flagstaffian friends for the 6 hour bus excursion.

The Greyhound bus lurched and careened down the I-40 between the two border states, and as we reached Gallup, New Mexico, a storm swirled overhead. I had forgotten that one reason I love the south west is because many times when a storm is coming, you can see it threatening even hundreds of miles away. This was that kind of storm. The hodge podge of Greyhound passengers, including a gentleman next to me who persisted in explaining to me how to keep myself healthy and be a good wife, despite my feigning sleep, finally slowed in their talking to look out the window and take in the rainbows that arched across the sky. It was one of those "double rainbow" experiences where all passengers strained their necks, disregarding those traveling next to them, just trying to get a look at the rainbows. Suddenly, we realized that shining brilliantly, not two, but three rainbows soared above the desert floor to create a type of snow globe border to our New Mexican sky.

"This is why I love New Mexico," I thought, and I joined the rest of the crew in gawking at the wonders of the south west. "Take me home, take me home," I chanted in my head and we climbed the hilltops towards Albuquerque, leaving the desert, the storms, and the rainbows behind.

There are two views that make me think of home: the first is the overlook of Albuquerque right past Acoma Pueblo on the 40. It's the sight of the valley stretched out beneath the colossal Sandias, the city sprawling across the sandy basin, and the evening settling in on those afternoon drives east that makes me feel like I'm finally home. The other is the climb up to Los Alamos. There is no other road like it - hugging the mesas as the highway charges up to the secret city, the sun setting behind the Jemez and illuminating the Rockies - that's what I love about northern New Mexico. I love the colors and the contrast. This place has drama. It is emotional to look at.

In an e-mail to a friend, I tried to express my feelings of being home, but all I could talk about was turquoise and Santa Fe style buildings. Everything came back to the colors, the colors, the colors. He wrote back something like, "have fun with those colors", mocking my childish ways and obsession with the southwest's palette, but I had to shrug it off, because there's nothing like it and this is what keeps me coming back. It really is just about the colors - capturing the beauty that is embedded in the place I call home.

Pulling into the Greyhound station, in downtown Albuquerque, colors, storms, and rainbows aside, I had only one thing on my mind. There would be a 21 year old girl waiting for me there. A girl who shares my history, my thoughts, my obsessions, my story. A girl who is like the other part of me and is someone I love like an arm or extremity of some sort - with necessity. My sister.

I hauled my massive backpack out from under the bus and as I approached the station, there she was. All tears and excitement - all hugs and love. Santa Fe, New Mexico means family to me. This place means blood and drama and colors. It means life isn't always easy, but you have to look at the struggle of the desert and you'll see something great here. It enchants you. It captivates you. I wish I could tell you about reds and yellows and immediately paint you a picture of what I see here. I wish you could feel what I feel when I see turquoise and stucco, juniper blanketing the foothills and the Sangre de Cristo mountains, sandstone and menacing storm clouds, but you'll just have to take my word for it - it's the colors, it's family, it's home.