Behind my childhood home in Cave Creek, a vast expanse of desert is laid out, stretching for miles. I haven’t been here in a while. When I was little, my dad would take me out and teach me about the curious plants and animals within our little piece of the Saguaro Desert. As a singing jeep tour guide, he had many things to say about the desert; some of them were hard-hitting facts, most were embellished by his incredible imagination.
The towering saguaros still seem as tall as they did when I was little — I guess we’ve both kept growing all these years. I walk through the giants and feel waves of peace and uneasiness flow through me; the cacti just watch calmly, per usual. The sharp quietness of the desert is relaxing until the reality of what it is seeps back in.
People go to the desert for many reasons. Morality seems to change when you’re in such a harsh environment. Ravers seek an open space away from society to experiment with drugs; bikers and skateboarders set up obstacle courses from whatever scraps of litter they can find; coyotes seek food and shelter while panting under the glaring sun. About eight years ago, Casey’s friend came out here and shot himself.
Some days the desert feels scarier than others. Today, I walk through the dusty landscape with my mom while carrying the last bag of ashes we have of my dad. The saguaros understand; they seem to bend forward, struggling to embrace me. One cactus stands tall and strong, highlighted by the orange rays of the setting sun behind him. Here, I empty the plastic bag and watch as my dad’s ashes mix with the swirling sandy dust around my feet.
The distant howls of coyotes signal that it’s time to leave. You can hear their yips from a successful hunt as they settle down for dinner. I look out at the expanse that once was never-ending, and the mountains on the other side now seem closer. Casey once told me he even walked to them in just a few hours. Lights of houses that were never there before start to flicker into existence as the twilight enters.
Moovin & Groovin 