Remembering the View

Growing up, my parents loaded my brother and I into the car with our luggage, some books, and picnic lunches of salami, cheddar cheese, apple slices, and Diet Coke. We drove all over the country, visiting family, resorts, and every antique shop, art gallery, farm implements museum, or historical marker along the way. We had a good time, even if we wanted to kill each other by the time we got back, and we saw a lot of the country in the process.

Unfortunately, I remember very little that we didn’t capture in photographs. I was too young, too busy bickering with Josh, too sick of being in the car to remember much of our trips. I recall some things…Mom clinging to a telephone pole ten feet from whatever ledge or cliff my brother and I were dangling over, begging us to get back from the edge. Dad commenting on every vista, every waterfall, saying “I wouldn’t mind this in my backyard”.

I remember the family moments, either playing games or laughing, or fighting, more than I remember the sights and resorts. I remember the people we met, be it Bikers for Jesus, the hiking guide who proved to me that some Canadians really do say “eh”, or the woman in the string bikini who had apparently planned the same trip as us, as we met her one week in Florida and the next week in Virginia.

But for the most part, the mountains, the wide stretches of cornfields, the ornate buildings and amazing beaches are not filed in my head, but in snapshots and paintings.

I thought about that yesterday as I stood on a trail just inside the Grand Canyon. Pierce, Emily and I were resting along the trail, taking in the view and talking about friends back home, when a young mother and her daughter passed. They stopped and looked out on the Canyon and the girl leaned against her mother, complaining about the climb.

The mother held her close and said, “Just remember this. I don’t remember a lot of the trips I took when I was eight, and sometimes you’re not lucky enough to go back to those places. So remember this.”

I hope the girl does. I hope I managed to capture the Canyon in my memory (and camera) enough to fully appreciate the experience. I hope I do the same when we revisit some of the places I went to with my family as a kid. I’m lucky enough to get to go back to some of them.

But I also hope I remember the family moments, be it with my own, or my makeshift family for these forty days. Talking with Em and Pierce on the rim is more important to me than any panoramic photo of a Canyon. Remembering the way my family laughed together on the sides of mountains is more important than any photo with my feet dangling over the edge of a cliff. Not that I didn’t take one just to tease you, Mom.

We’re heading towards Salt Lake City today, a city I’ve been to before, and a city I remember almost nothing about, besides the Great Salt Lake being a major disappointment. I hope I remember it better this time.