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The good thing about living here is that after ten minutes of walking I can be right up against the side of a mountain. I walk past two blocks of houses and a gas station, past more houses, past bunches of weeds with purple flowers and yellow berries, past a pair of roadrunners. Then I cross the main road and keep going on a side road that leads up to a higher point on the mountain. A few minutes after that I stop hearing the noise from the main road and it becomes strangely quiet.

At the highest point of the road I arrive at a clearing with huge rocks, desert brush, and tons of mosquitoes. I sit for a few minutes on a rock. It is warm from the day's heat, almost hot. My mind is full of anxieties and I sit there and let them go through my mind as I swat away mosquitoes. Finally the mosquitoes annoy me enough that I want to move someplace else.

I walk a few steps and reach a ditch full of sand and debris from recent rains. I walk through the sandy ditch like it's a road and finally I stand at the perfect view. I look out on a beautiful valley below. A few hundred yards away from me a large pond of water reflects right in the center of the cactus and brush of desert landscape. It looks so out-of-place- water in a desert. Further off, there's a good-sized mountain range of brown-black mountains with pale blue and pink sky above it. Before that, I can see the last line of civilization before the landscape turns completely to desert- the white canopy of the baseball field, US Hwy. 54, houses, businesses. I contemplate the valley for a few minutes, wishing I had a camera.

Then I look behind me. Above the peak of the large brown mountain there are gray clouds rimmed with sunlight. A plane flies into those clouds, leaving a contrail that dissolves right into the cloud. Rays of sun peek through the clouds, though the setting sun itself is hidden behind the clouds. Dragonflies fly all around me. The scene is stunningly beautiful.

Once again, I become aware of how quiet it is. My life is noisy- the TV or radio is always on, the A/C is on, people are talking, cars are passing by, and here it is finally quiet. I went up there thinking it would be a good spot to reflect and maybe shed a few tears in privacy, and yet at the moment I stand there I feel calm and serene and the tears don't come. The permanence of the mountains is calming- knowing they will be here long after you die, long after everyone you know has died, and suddenly a day's worth of anxiety doesn't matter as much. A constant when everything else is changing.

My legs are tired by this time, I start down a pile of rocks and head back to the house. It has been 45 minutes, it seems like less. But it's darker now. I hurry home. Back to the road, past the gas station, past apartments where someone is grilling their dinner. Ten minutes and I'm home.