I found the Quebradas backcountry road just north of Socorro off the interstate. It was early morning. I crossed the Rio Grande and imagined crossing it at another point south soon enough. I passed through the collection of modest buildings that was the still-sleeping village of Pueblito. It felt good to have the Jeep off the highway and on a trail. It gave me a sense of solitude, though I was anything but alone. I drove slowly, wondering just what I was going to do. It would have been easy enough to pack up and drive home to Los Angeles, but I knew I wouldn’t do that, couldn’t do that. As I drove deeper into a temporary nowhere, I was more relaxed, my breathing found a familiar rhythm, and I saw the landscape more clearly. The colors out there were deep browns, reds, ochre; “a desert rainbow” I had once heard it called. The cactuses were past blooming, but beautiful nonetheless. I imagined seeing it all with Sarah. And then with Meg. I realized that I still loved my wife, and yet here I was, having left her all alone. All alone. So that I might do something good? So that I might in some way redeem myself? I hated the notion of redemption. But here I was in the world, in this world. I would do something.

I stopped and walked out through the cholla and ocotillos. It was already extremely hot. I was certain that to someone flying overhead or driving by I looked like the ridiculous cliché of a scientist or ranger, clad all in khaki, long pants and sleeves to protect me from the harsh sun. Perhaps to protect me from the bright light of God. If there was a God, he or she was no good at its job. Apparently there was just too much to do, listening to the prayers of all those who actually mattered, the faithful, the pious, the deluded, the stupid. My clumsy, unmeasured strides brought me too close to a rattlesnake. I saw him before he needed to warn me, but still we eyed each other warily as I steered wide of him. I wondered if maybe he was God, out for a walk (or a slither) just like me, through the peace and solitude of the desert. I took a knee and examined the tracks of what I thought was a kit fox. Maybe she was God. God had to be somewhere, why not lost in that desert? That would explain a lot.