Thursday, February 21, 2013

Roger That, Tucson

As I was flying away from Tucson the other night, I glanced out the window and saw an old friend.

It's such an endearing and comforting touch, in a world of interchangeable airports and blurred time zones and indistinguishable takeoffs and landings, to see the name of your current city in bold letters on the tallest building around. I couldn't resist taking a few shots of the bright shapes shining out in the darkness. Those letters that spell out T-U-C-S-O-N make me feel settled, like I know who and where I am, like I'm visiting home.

Of course, Tucson, Arizona is not my home. Until nine months ago, I had never been there in my whole life. But with a daughter attending college there, I've visited four times now, and I'm starting to feel a connection, a fondness for this new place. I never thought I would be a fan of the desert, but the city and the land are starting to have their way with me, and I can feel myself opening up to their new possibilities.

As my plane taxied away down the runway, I clicked over to my camera roll and I was pleased to see how the photos turned out. I like the way my face and the name of the city blend together in these funny reflected shots. And it reminds me that my visits may be affecting this desert town in some small ways, and she is certainly making an impact on me. 

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