Remember a time

A man stands in line and dances to a tune.

He remembers. He remembers a time; a time, of youth, and passion, and music. He remembers with the movement of his body.

His belly no longer flat, bulges through a light blue, button down shirt. The bottom two buttons not buttoned, give brief views of a world not many want to see. Yet he dances. His white belly, light brown hairs strewn across, peaks out as he thrusts and jostles.

His eyes now wrinkled around the edges are closed. His forehead bare, no longer with thick locks, is cocked slightly to one side and up. And his mouth moves, as he silently sings the lyrics of the song that plays.

The tune from the radio, everyone hears, yet only he dances and no one else. His heal thumps the ground. Thump. Thump. Thump. His feet move to the beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. His hand slaps his thigh. Slap. Slap. Slap. And his hips give slight thrust in tune to the music. His music. His time. His story.

I stand in line too and watch as the story plays out in his own interpretive dance. I love the man. I love his story, his passion, and love for a song. I love seeing into his memory. Perhaps, a favorite time in his past. I even love the expression on a teenagers face as his dad lives. Lives within a memory, if only briefly, in the form of a dance.

I am in Zions National Park with a friend and we are at the Zions lodge. We hope to quench our thirsts for caffeine before taking the bus down the canyon, to our cars, and then home. It's been a great trip. One of laughing, hiking, birding and friendship and ...

I want to remember:

The excitement as we realize both of us own (and love) cute little hachbacks.

Enjoying each others complaints about wind, dirt, leaf debree, and occasional insect that gets into out sleeping bags. And choosing not to act on the complaints, by putting up a tent. Both of us loving to sleep out under the stars.

Note: Forgive the image. Borrowed from another bushtit trip with another great bushtit

Note of note: A bushtit is a very small drab grey bird with a long tail. They have a very social nature, in that they are often in a flock of up to 40 individuals, are very noisy, and tend to hang with other species of birds. Bushtit is also what the group of girls I bird with call ourselves. I am sure you can see the resemblance.

The pain of accomplishment.

Recovering from the pain of accomplishment.

The ability to recognize a great photo opportunity

The shared love and appreciation of a great view

Hike states:

Observation point:

Elevation gain: A freaking lot!

Miles: 8

Temperature: > 108F, exposed, hotter than hell.

Water: not enough

Hidden Canyon:

Elevation Gain: 1,000 ft

Miles: >3.2

Temperature: <108f

Emerald Pools:

Elevation Gain: What elevation gain?

Miles: 3

Temperature: Shady!