White Sands National Park

2018.11.23

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I came here when I was small.  I know I must have been young because my memory is more fractured feeling than video reel:  giggling, too-large baby blue roadrunner shirt, ankles careening over wrists as they spiraled down dune.  Never enough.

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Now I come here every year on the day after Thanksgiving:  quiet gratitude, too-much tiffin turkey, baby pink sunset and beaver moon.  Never end.