White Sands
April 2021 | Park 17
Part + Park 2 (of 3) on yet another spring break trip.
To date, these are some of my favorite images that I’ve ever taken. I’m guilty of overusing the word “magical” when describing nature, but in this case, I would argue that White Sands actually is magical. Gypsum dunes that rise and fall in mesmerizing shapes, blindingly white beneath the midday sun and slowly transformed into blues and purples and pinks and peachy hues as evening approaches. The mountains on the horizon, the clear sky above, and the wind that hauntingly whips through this otherworldly landscape.
My memories here are a peculiar mixture of euphoric and sad. Earlier in the day, I had been given notice of a call I’d receive that evening that I was guessing would not contain pleasant news. I felt a growing sense of dread and anxiety whenever this came to mind, but resolutely tried to shove it away and be present in my experience of this place. I remember staring at the unbelievable beauty of this place as I stood on sand that was literally pink, surrounded by a world awash in color, choosing to soak up every ounce of beauty before facing what I sensed would be a painful conversation. Perhaps it was this looming sensation that heightened my appreciation of this particular moment, watching J and our six-month-old puppy running up and down the dunes and feeling the breeze ruffling my hair; but I also think this was objectively one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve had the privilege of witnessing.
Eventually the light faded and we took our leave, sliding down the dunes in our bare feet as we headed back to the parking lot. We hadn’t yet made it out of the park when the call I was expecting came through my cell. I can still recall my detached, calm voice as I took in what that conversation held, my eyes barely registering the view around us any longer.
And so that’s White Sands for me: Breathtaking and devastating all at once. I’ve thought a lot about going back — certainly because I would be delighted and grateful to run up and down these bright dunes again, but also because perhaps it would be a good place to sit and alchemize what I felt when I last was there.
I can picture sitting in the sand at sunset again, hugging my knees in to my chest, watching the rippled dunes turn pastel. The wind, still warm from the day yet carrying a hint of nighttime desert chill, caresses my face. I imagine I close my eyes and release to the wind whatever might need to be released in this specific place, whatever memories or sensations or feelings.
The wind is gentle as she takes what I offer and mixes it in to the swirling particles of magenta sand. A part of me, forever lost and found in this mournful, quiet, lovely place.
