I spent the week in the desert. Arizona. Maybe a kilometer from the border. It was a far cry from the gold and burgundy trees of the northeast, instead surrounded by reddish brown dirt, unnamed mountains off in the distance, dotted with desert shrubs like a pox, cacti, Spanish. The temperature was never below sixty or above seventy. The sky stayed blue. At times I would be fifty yards from the border fence, stretched across the hills and cutting the sky like the rusted plates of a stegosaurus back. I felt the southwest again. It reminded me of Big Bend and earlier in the year. I forgot about those times. I don’t even feel like that was me.

My initial flight to Arizona was something pleasant. I met a girl named Paige. She was a golfer. She talked about it with a confidence that wasn’t cockiness, but with an acknowledgement of ability. She was a journalism major, so we talked about that. And then we talked about psychology. And then religion. And then gender roles. And our upbringings. She said she wanted to be a sideline reporter for college football. I told her that would work, she has a face for TV. She smiled and said thanks. It was true. And I will never see her again.

Upon landing, I was greeted by LaMarr and by cacti. LaMarr and I have worked together on numerous occasions, and he’s nothing short of one of my favorite people. He’s somewhat quiet, but not out of shyness or necessity. He’s simply not loud because it’s not needed. He’s incredibly good at what he does. He thinks with his engineer logic. On the jobsite, he challenges any of my actions even if they’re correct, just to check my assuredness. I see this right away and I don’t give him the pleasure of catching me off guard. He keeps me on my toes and he teaches me. He’s the man that after working a busy day, we went to a machine gun range in Oklahoma City to let off some steam. We often talk about growing up in the South and the silly things northerners do. We laugh about many things.

Nogales, AZ had the desolate beauty that makes the southwest what it is. Grass doesn’t exist in this part of the country. Looking in any direction, you see mountains. At night, you see stars. The sunsets. Those desert sunsets that turn the sky to a purple I’ve never seen. The sun makes its retreat behind those desert titans, and the gold and purple sky is its last goodbye for the day. I remember feeling disappointed when it finished.

The jobsite itself was by far the most unique site I’ve visited. The country’s largest port of entry into the country from Mexico. A massive fifty acre project right on the border. We worked in strange areas. At one point I was climbing over and under pipes in tight underground tunnels that could hardly fit me and in other places that allowed LaMarr and myself to stand freely. Parts of the facility were operational while we were there. During the day, the air was heavy with the sound in smell of eighteen wheelers coming from Mexico. As the days would grow late, we would hear concerts and smell barbecue from over the border. LaMarr and I would joke of adventures we could have. Maybe next time, we would joke. I wore a hardhat and boots and a safety vest and I felt that importance that sometimes comes with this job, even if I’m not that important. One day, a Border Patrol official will reach for a light switch that I programmed. I have done my patriotic duty.

I feel bitter again. I’m not sure why. I have that familiar chip on my shoulder. Mad at the world and nothing at all. It’s a recession and regression to something I don’t want to be. Things have been so good lately. I had a wonderful week at home last week. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t love. My job continues to get better and better. In my social aspects, I’ve had good times. And I still don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m letting myself settle into an uncomfortable groove. I need something new. Isn’t that a shame? I’m in a new city every week and doing new things and yet I still feel unfulfilled. Give it a few days and I’ll feel fine, as is the usual par for this course. I keep thinking about things I thought I was done with. Dwelling on things I shouldn’t. About how I wouldn’t mind seeing Paige again. Ihop and Big Bend. I don’t write enough. I don’t workout enough. Challenging my self worth. And then I stop and I breathe and I think and I grow up all over again. One of my many faux inspirational phrases. It makes me think of you (and I’ve been thinking of you often.)

“I’m ok. Everything is ok. Everything will be ok.”