Hightop Thoughts

Apparently summer in Albquerque also means monsoon season. I laughed when Dan first told me this, and was certainly quite skeptical every time the subject came up. Dan told me that the air was actually quite humid for New Mexico, at which I guffawed. Humid? Not by Minnesota standards!

The morning dawned quite sunny, so we took Lizzy, the oldest (at age 2) and went to see the petroglyphs. Seeing those ancient drawings was astounding--they were so primal, so raw. You could just imagine the native people chiseling their renderings of their surroundings into the rock. Some of the designs--spirals and the like--were simple to decipher. Others were more intricate--detailed drawings of people or beings. Although these drawings of people looked like the drawings a 3-year-old might create, you have to marvel at the handiwork. These were carved in rock! It was pretty amazing. Some things transcend time--for example, we saw two people drawn side by side. They looked very similar, but something about their appearance clearly indicated that the one on the right was male and the one on the left was female. I don't know why we knew this--both of them had box-like bodies, stick arms and legs, ornate headgear . . . But something was distinctly feminine about the drawing on the left, and likewise, something was distinctly male about the drawing on the right. Of course, the ancient Native Americans who drew these may be laughing from their afterlife right now, giggling at our assumptions, but I like to think that they'd agree and are happy that we understand at least a portion of what they left behind.

After lunch, we visited the Sandia Tramway. With the twins strapped on our backs, we marched up to the tram station at the base of the mountain. And then the rain hit. Buckets and buckets of water poured forth from the sky. The tram was, of course, delayed until the lightning stopped and the storm died down. So we waited. For the twins, this was one of best parts of the day. They toddled, waddled, and crawled about a waiting area, grabbing at the benches with wooden slats and wrought-iron decoration. Tiny holes for fingers? Check! Small spaces to crawl into? Check! People to coo over them and note how adorable they are? Check! (It turns out that twins draw quite a lot of attention--people can't get enough of them!)

The rain let up, as expected (New Mexico storms are not known to last long), and we made our way up the tram. Traveling a mile up the mountain, the temperature cooled. It was 47 degrees--definitely chilly, but not too cold for this upper Midwest girl. :) We had gorgeous views every which way up and down the mountain. As we wound our way through the trails through the trees and around the rocks, I almost felt as though I were back in the northwoods of Wisconsin where I'd grown up. The temperature was right, the trees were similar, there was that scent of pine permeating the air. The twins were enthralled for a bit, but naptime did take over fairly quickly. I could feel my goddaughter Emily burrowing her tiny little head into my back as we bounced about the trail.

*Attention Reader: The next paragraph contains an emotional outpouring that struck me at the top of the mountain. If you prefer the trite commentary, tales of the road trip, etc., skip ahead to the black text afterward. If you read the following, consider yourself duly warned.*

I don't know if it was the sudden cool of the temperature, if the thinness of the air affected my brain, or if the wilderness around me made me feel more relaxed and open, but I found myself thinking a lot about things that I had ignored for a long time. If you're not married, I think there comes a point in your mid-20's and early 30's where you start to put up a few protective walls. Since turning 30 a few months ago, I encountered more and more people who started asking me about my love life. When would I be "settling down?" Getting married? Those were issues I skirted for a while. I came up with stock answers in my 20's that I found myself regurgitating year after year. "I'm not there yet. I don't know if that's what I want. I teach kids all day, I don't know if I really want to have my own." Maybe it was something about the sleeping baby on my back, cozying up and providing that unmistakable sweet baby smell that is inescapable when you're in the presence of a baby, or spending two days with Dan and Mary's three ridiculously cute and energetic kids, but I think I was finally able to admit to myself that I still would like to have a whole passel of children myself. I would like to meet a man that I just want to spend all my time with without becoming exhausted of his personality because he's so much fun to be with, and is so easy to talk with. I think this admission had been coming for a while, and it's probably something that any one of my best friends could have called me out on for years, but I think it was important for me to have that moment of realization. This is what I want. I don't write that here to garner pity--I despise the sad head tilt, the "Aw, it's ok. You'll find someone, your time will come, blah, blah, blah," that people constantly spew to their single friends. I'm not looking for answers here, I'm simply stating a fact. I don't think I'll feel unfulfilled if these things never work themselves out for me--I can always be an aunt when my siblings have children and when friends' children adopt me as such, but it would be nice to have that in my life. It's something that I tried to deny to myself for the last several years; I don't know if it was absolutely necessary for me to stand on a mountain to discover the heart of the matter. But that's where I had the realization.

The twins woke up when we reached the stone house where stranded hikers have stayed in years past, and where teenagers paint graffiti messages. (We didn't hike the whole mountain--you can skip the tram altogether and hike up and down, or bike, but that's a good 26 miles round trip. Somehow, that was NOT going to happen without a significant amount of conditioning. I was fine with the hiking we did, which was not overly strenuous though we did get a few miles in, but 26? On an incline? Um . . . Give me a few months or years to prep for that, please!) This was a great place for a cheerio snack, which they happily shoveled into their mouths. Do you remember the days when you could shove your whole hand in your mouth? Yeah, I don't really remember being able to do it myself, but it's something that always amuses me about babies. Emily and Alex also love to "hoover," to simply suck cheerios or other small foods right out of your hand. I can't help but giggle when they do that--it's ridiculously funny, and they usually give you a big grin or make a goofy face of delight afterwards.

Down the tram again, and out for New Mexican food (which was very similar to Mexican cuisine . . . ) for dinner. The food was solid, but for me, the most amusing part was walking to the restaurant with Dan and Mary and their stroller for three, as well as learning Dan and Mary's take on eating out with the kids. There are rules. 1) The restaurant cannot be too stuffy, stodgy, or expensive. If it's too posh or formal, it's not a place for the kids. 2) The waitstaff MUST find the kids cute (which is ridiculously easy!) so that when they make a mess (which, inevitably, three kids 2 and under WILL do) they are forgiven. 3) Bonus points are given if the restaurant is within walking distance of their home. Dan and Mary are big-time walkers, and I think this is a wonderful habit for them to instill in the kids. All three of their children get really excited to go out with both Mom and Dad. They see the strollers or backpacks, they begin bouncing up and down, their eyes get big, and they reach up and gurgle, as if they are saying, "Please, please, please take me!!! Take me! Me!" Garcia's met all three of these requirements, and it was a wonderful way to wind down a lovely day.

Just one more day left in New Mexico . . .