Wall Arch

I read the news that the Wall Arch fell today due to inevitable force of nature – wind and erosion. I don’t exactly know why, but my chest felt heavy, as if a friend died.

I’ve been to Cayonlands Parks twice while I was in college. First trip was with an organized school group, and the second one was a year after, with friends, which I remember more. Five of us stuffed ourselves in Jack’s Buick, fully loaded with five Jansport backpacks and enough supplies for a week.

The drive was long and the cabin felt crowded, but the anticipation of sleeping under the stars without a tent, exposing ourselves to the pure elements excited us, enough for me to ignore the childish jabs by Steve and Dan whenever I started dozing off. Jack drove the whole way without a break, other than for gas. We saw hundreds of mule deer along the road,  with their nocturnal eyes shining like the sparking fireflies at hot humid Minnesota nights.

I remember a particular afternoon in the park. While everybody was off exploring, I studied a piece of blue paper. After a few minutes, I began to see an intricate pattern of paper fiber, meaningfully interweaved in delicate fashion. I was convinced that a person at a paper factory spent hours, if not days, creating that particular pattern, trying to have someone really see it for what it is, having it appreciated. He wanted to communicate to others that it’s special, that extra-ordinary things can be found in an ordinary piece of paper. At that moment, everything made sense – that everyone in the world is struggling to be understood, to be appreciated, to connect and to be connected. It was a turning point in my life. I would never look at another person in the same old manner. I understood that everyone was unique, but we want to belong and be understood. Nothing we do is meaningless. We all want and need to be connected, to love and to be loved. Blue pieces of paper – whenever I look at them, I think of that Spring break of 1987 in Utah. I remember the intense sun during the day and the cold desert night on my face, looking up at the satellite screaming across the sky, dodging between the stars. And of course, I remember the meaningless piece of blue paper, and how it changed me.

My heart is heavy when I look at the picture of the Wall Arch that no longer exists. Perhaps I know that my carefree youth ended a long time ago, or simply know that everything must come to an end, that nothing lasts forever.