First Published in the Sri-Town Transcript Oct 21, 2015
By Esther C. Baird
Ok, I realize this is the time of year when our Tri-Towns are the envy of the nation with our foliage. But I recently traded in our reds and yellows and oranges for the same vibrant colors, but instead found on the rocks and mesas of Sedona, Arizona. (Also, I might add, Sedona’s temps are still in the high 80s.)
My mother and I went to celebrate her birthday and our goal was to be disconnected in the desert. But could we do it? We are two anxiety prone, Type A, slightly hyper moms. Could we surround ourselves with enough jaw-dropping scenery and prickly-pear margaritas that we’d actually unwind?
We began our visit with a hike. Our goal was a red rock spire, formed over zillions of years, that sat atop a high ledge. The trail began with a charming sign warning us of rattlesnakes and scorpions. Did we get uptight? Did we feel stress? Well . . . I mean, you know, scorpions are awful and skittery, but mostly, we were chill.
And by chill, I mean huffing and puffing. But we made it to the top and the views . . . the views!
Totally worth the risk of death by prehistoric pest.
We’d been told that this spire was also a ‘vortex’ – – a place where supposedly we’d feel the earth’s power swirling around us. But what we felt, as we sat in the blazing desert sun, was thirst. Thirst, but also . . . what was this? No one texting us, no to-do lists, no dinner prep, ah, yes, relaxation – that’s what it was.
It felt weird. Obviously we had to practice.
So we spent the next few days flitting about in spa robes and making hard choices about wine versus cocktails. But when we went shopping on the third day, I knew the actual disconnect had occurred.
I was weighing the merits of one shiny bracelet over another in a store, when I noticed a can of Jalapeño Peanuts with serving spoon.
“Oooh! I love spicy peanuts!” I said, filling the scooper up.
Then, while still eyeing the jewelry, I casually popped the entire serving spoon into my mouth and gave it a big lip-smacking slurp. “Mmm, yummy!”
There was an awkward pause. My mom looked down at the bracelets and the store clerk tried to look interested in the air directly in front of her.
What did I miss?
And then it hit me. “Oh my word! Did I just put the serving spoon into my mouth!???”
My mother looked at me and nodded.
The clerk gave me a strained smile. “It’s ok, you know, it happens . . .”
I bet it had not happened. Not even once before.
“I’m so sorry,” I blustered, “I have no idea what I was thinking. I just. . . it was only. . .”
I couldn’t continue.
My mother hastily bought a bracelet, (for me, thanks Mom!) and we hustled out of the store before I could do something else wildly uncouth. It was slightly horrifying, except, the mouthful of spicy peanuts was indicative of untethered relaxation . . .what else could it be??
You’d think that would be the end of it. But no. Instead, my mother shoplifted.
That’s right. Larceny, straight up. She found a shirt we thought might fit my younger daughter and, as I purchased another item, my mother marched right out of the store and down the street.
We were moseying along when she finally noticed.
“Oh no!” she held up the shirt.
“Mom!” I exclaimed for all of the town to hear. “You shoplifted!”
“I have no idea how I did that! I wasn’t paying any attention.” She answered as she turned back to the store.
Notice a theme here? We weren’t thinking, we weren’t paying attention, it’s a miracle we didn’t wander right off the edge of a red-rimmed cliff.
I’m home now. I’m back to the lists and dinners and deadlines. Back to my general wound-up way of life. But something of the desert has lingered. We’ll see if it lasts, but if I was a local store owner, I might keep an eye on those tasty samples . . .