Early & Alone #59: Wide Open Spaces

I’ve been putting off writing this newsletter because there are so many things to write about, so many things happening that I get overwhelmed. I have been meaning to write about the trip I took, now nearly two months ago, to Arizona, where I saw the Grand Canyon and hiked along the red rocks in Sedona at sunrise and got my aura read and visited vineyards and off-roaded in a pink jeep. It was the first big trip I’ve taken since pre-pandemic, and it felt monumental, in more ways than one. So I didn’t quite know how to approach writing about it. It felt like trying to describe something as vast as the Grand Canyon.

Before the trip, I’d been feeling lonely and lost. I didn’t feel quite settled in my new apartment, or my new city, despite having lived here for over a year now. I joined groups only to find they were still only meeting on Zoom. I’d reach out to friends and they’d be busy or resist committing to plans. I feared I’d made the wrong decision in leaving Boston and so many friends behind.

But the trip knocked something loose in me, pulled some kind of ripcord. For the first time in a long time, I felt connected to people and places. When I’d first conceived of the trip, I’d emailed friends to see if anyone was interested in going. People either had commitments or didn’t feel comfortable traveling or just didn’t respond. So I began to reframe the narrative—I didn’t necessarily want to go alone, but I was determined to see the Grand Canyon, to go to a new place and see new beautiful things. But luckily, a friend emailed a couple weeks after I’d sent my original email, asking if I was still planning. If we went at the end of October, she could probably swing it. We invited another mutual friend, who invited another friend, a former colleague whom I didn’t know super well but am friendly with, and we were off—a fearsome foursome of single publishing professionals, ready to see some goddamned beauty.

I loved Sedona, with its red rocks and woo woo energy and dizzying blue sky. It really is a special place, even if I don’t necessarily believe in energy vortexes. I needed a new setting, a break in the claustrophobia of my apartment where I live and work every day. But just as important, if not moreso, was the connection I made with my travel companions. We talked about everything from dating to aging parents to work situations to travel stories to music. We sang loudly in the car. We came up with private jokes and laughed until our stomaches hurt. One friend, the one I knew the least going into the trip, held my hand when I got scared on the rocks during our hike. We gave advice and packed lunches and lent toiletries to one another. It was nice to talk to women going through similar experiences as me.

Now, with Omicron looming, I’m even more grateful that I took this trip. It was a brief respite from the ache of the last nearly two years, a reminder that the world is bigger and more inviting than it seems right now.

1000 Caves

Bright Spots:

• Got this sweet tarot deck in Sedona

• Obsessed with this massager

• I’ll admit it…I’m really excited for the premiere of And Just Like That… tonight.

Take care of yourselves, my friends.