Among the old files my son found and brought to me are some notes I wrote while visiting Santa Fe, New Mexico. Dated January 23, 1988, they were written very early as the sun rose. My sister, whom I was traveling with, was still asleep. Always an early riser, I had crept out of our hotel room to walk on my own.
Here’s what I wrote then — in pencil.
“The air is almost frosty and very fresh. My ears and nose are cold. The wind rushes down from the mountains to caress my face while it teases my hair. The morning invigorates, stimulates — makes me glad to be alive. I love mornings!
The sun rubs its eyes and washes its face. I raise my arms to the heavens in welcome. It agrees to stay and join me on these quiet streets. How wonderful to greet the dawn. There is no one else to do so, so if I don’t, who will?
Chapel San Miguel, Santa Fe, New Mexico
This charming, creative town is mine — mine alone. The dawn, the sun, the deserted streets — they belong only to me. With a possessive eye I take in the old stucco buildings, the narrow, uneven, yet beautiful streets. Who would dare take them from me? I am filled with a feeling of power. The buildings, the colours, the streets, the mountains — mine, all mine!
The magical basillica, Santa Fe
I am woman, earth mother — strong and at one with the early morning which feeds me and gives me strength. I am busy — walking and communicating with this world of mine.
Sleep mortals. You cannot know the joy of this communion. From a hill, I look down on the sleepy, beautiful town below, my spirit soaring.
What’s this? A young man joins me on a sleepy street. He smiles. I know he knows. He knows and he understands. There is enough glory for us both. I smile back and we walk together, and even though we are strangers, we talk as if we were old friends.
Well, our souls are….. Besides, he knows where I can get an early cup of coffee.”
Santa Fe, New Mexico
View from Over the Hill 