Sunday, August 13


One blue Dodge Caravan. Four travelers. Three thousand miles. Two weeks. Thirty-five relatives and my dad's best friend since first grade.

The rest of this post is an attempt to capture the last fifty miles of the home stretch.

Hot Springs, SD--population 4,102...and falling. I woke up from a short nap and looked through tinted windows. It was late afternoon, as our road had finally returned us to the Black Hills. The winding path that leaned into the densely forested, rolling hills contrasted with yellow patches of prairies, where horses and grazing cattle could be seen in the valleys in between. As Yo-yo Ma-produced "Silk Road" played in the background, we drove through humbling canyons and emerged onto the plains where only abandoned, charred wooden barns stood. Once in a while, rusting tractors and lost cattle quietly watched us pass by. Bales of hay littered the seeming assertion of "abandonment."

On my left, the sun caressed the silhouettes of the horizon--the hills that would follow us home. On my right, what had until then been dry, parched prairie had suddenly begun to reflect the burning amber rays of sunlight. As my soul was being torn in trying to decide which side I should turn to, I thought to myself, "Who would believe this?" Subhan Allah.

The cameras were all packed with suitcases in the trunk, so this was all I was able to capture.

1 comment:

- Senna - said...

aww..I love road trips :)....
espicially when a bunch of relatives are waiting at the other end !!
Well written :)