A Certain Time
Certain times of day settle deep in the soul. Christine knelt down to better see the cactus rose. The cactus rose as brilliant as the setting sun. It had always been her favourite since she was a child. Christine’s father brought her to this pink granite canyon each fall before school started. They would climb through boulders softened by wind and rain. Walk slowly down creek beds dusty from the summer heat. Always watching for rattlers. Christine stood up stiffly, no longer would she be clambering up the rock. The stroll through the base of the granite rock and down the dusty stream bed was possible. This magic place felt just as magical as when she was nine or ten. As challenging as when she was a teenager scaling the heights of the rock with her climbing group. The challenge now was just getting her knees to cooperate. Christine smiled as she stretched her back. The cactus rose was the focus of that dreamy nowness that she felt in this private pilgrimage to the Magic Canyon. In the heat of late afternoon, Christine picked up her walking stick and strolled stiffly back to her car. Her garden full of succulents gave her the pleasure of making a daily stroll from her porch chair.
“Memory is the basis of every journey.”
~ Stephen King, Dreamcatcher
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