chrysalisbreak: sun-baked and solid

Climbing "The Boot" 5.10 - Potash Road

Home from Moab. My thinking brain is rusty, and creaking to make stiff gears roll. I have been wholy in my body for the last 4 days. Climbing every morning at 6 a.m. and then again at 6 p.m. We chased the shade. We stayed dirty. I wore the same cut-off jean shorts for days, and hair went unbrushed, swooped up into a bun. I stuffed a duffel bag of clothes for the kids, yet Beckam lived in his diaper, and Pepper in her swimming suit. I hardly saw Sophie at all. She whisped in and out of the cabin like a gypsie, jingling red sand from her fingertips.

By the last day my fingers had the thickness of strong climbing. They became my focus, and they found their place easily in the rock. It is hard to give this up. Everything becomes so simple in the desert. Now I am back here where everything is diluted. Colors are broken down into tiny shapes. Down there it is a vast red swath of flaming rock, with blue sky above. Two colors. I am small against this back-drop. I eat to climb, not so much that I can't move in the heat, but just enough. I drink water, water, water. My kids are filthy, but content. We sleep in the middle of the day when it's too hot. or we swim in the pool.

Sophie, Me and Katrina - my lad

Pepper amazed me. Until now I have considered her flimsy and easily defeated. Instead she walked barefoot across hot rocks to the swimming pool 5 times a day. She cried the first 2 minutes when she
floated alone in her life-vest. Then she took right to it, like a little tadpole.
"I am a Pepper-fish, and this is my fish bowl."
She told everyone they could pet the Pepper-fish if they wanted. She played freely with other kids twice her age. She sputtered and beamed a smile when water was splashed in her face. She strutted her tiny butt with confidence around the pool.

Sophie looks like a different kid. Her skin bakes hard and fast like the top layer of cheese on lasagna. Her cheeks grow pink and she glows in the desert. She always has. She is fearless and strong. People approach me and say,
"Your daughter is amazing. She is brilliant."

She rode the river without me and tackled full-grown adults off the raft into the water.

Now back home again, I feel proud of my hearty family.
We must be doing something right.
I can't put my finger on it, but I can feel it after a long day in the dirt when my girls and I hold hands and pray together.
I can feel it because they want to sleep close in the same bed, sisters cuddled up like kittens.
I can feel it because Beckam floats easily on the cushion of people around him.
I can feel it because I want to call Andrew and tell him about our day even though he is back at home.

We are disciplined in our growth at home. When we strike out into the world, we are strong.