Getting Sticky With It
Do you fear sharp objects? Like, when you wield a knife in the kitchen, does your spouse take it away from you, lest you lose a digit or several by your own hand?
I don’t know if I fear sharp objects exactly. But, I respect them.
That wasn’t the case when I visited Grand Canyon for my 40th birthday. I wanted to do the longest hike possible without camping: halfway to the Colorado River and back in one day. We charted our course along the Grandview Trail and set out just after sunup. (Because, you know, it would take me all morning to cry my way into the canyon…………)
We picnicked atop Horseshoe Mesa. The universe was still.
Until MTM sat up and pointed over a ridge. “There’s a cave.”
“Over there somewhere.”
“Good for it.” I lay back on our pallet and stared at gradations of color in ancient rock.
MTM stood and blocked my view. “I want to go see it.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Okay.” He started walking in the direction of the cave. “Keep an eye out for snakes.”
“Snakes?!?!?!” I was ahead of him on the trail to the cave in two seconds flat.
We wandered into a gully and found the cave along the side of a cliff. Easy-peasey. In and out. No panic attacks over heights or uber-darkness for me. I was full of accomplishment on the way back to the picnic site. My head was high; my step a strut.
I strutted into a patch of prickly pear.
When I pulled up my pants leg, at least 100 spines stuck out of my skin. I almost fainted at the sight. “GET THEM OFF ME!!!” I screamed in agony.
MTM reached into his pocket.
“What are you DOING?!?!?”
“I thought I’d take a picture first. Of your leg.”
There was no getting sticky with it for MTM that evening.