Living somewhere doesn’t always make sense to those who weren’t on hand when the decision was made to do what was done. Maybe it was an economic decision or a defensive one; maybe it was proximity or distance that was desired. At some point, though, it is time to move on. The various people who took up residence here at Wupatki, starting back around 500 A.D., stayed for about 700 years before abandoning the site.

A young man I met a couple of years ago as a neighbor is moving on from Phoenix and heading back to his roots in rural Indiana with the hopes of finding something he has so far failed to discover. Originally a student at a local trade school, he soon figured out that he wouldn’t be as good a fit as he’d hoped, so he took up an apartment maintenance position where we live. Not long after trying his hand at this endeavor, he found he didn’t like it either, and so he quit. After two years in Arizona, it was time to try something new or old, depending on one’s perspective.

Knowing that Chris had been in Phoenix for two years and had never gotten out of the city, I couldn’t let it stand that come February 1st, when he flies out, he would have never been to the Grand Canyon, so I asked him if I could drag him up north.

With only two weeks before he left, I didn’t have much time to plan for a better date, so it was now or never. The weather forecast suggested there were only two days over the next ten that predicted partly cloudy weather, which looked the best we’d get, so I chose the closest day, that being today, Thursday, January 16, 2020.

If the snow on the ground wasn’t too bad, my plan was to take him on a short hike on the South Kaibab Trail out to Cedar Ridge. As luck would have it for Chris, the snow was pretty heavy, but there was a more important factor at work. Chris has some serious vertigo that stops him from going up to the third floor of the Desert View Watchtower. I hadn’t picked up on this outside when he didn’t get very close to the railing at the overlook.

I tried to get him to the top of the Watchtower, offering him assurance, but he let me know that it simply couldn’t happen as he was seriously uncomfortable. I knew at this point that regardless of the state of the trail, there was no way this guy was going to be able to stomach being out on the ledge of an unprotected narrow pathway cut out of the rocky cliffside we’d be hugging on the mile and a half walk out to the overlook.

Chris was overwhelmed by the scale of the Grand Canyon, which was exceeding his expectations. He flinched more than once, even while we were driving when he caught sight of the chasm just beyond a couple of trees and a cliffside.

Reaching Grand Canyon Village and El Tovar Hotel, in particular, it was time to get something to eat. As today was my treat and Chris, my guest, I thought I’d take him somewhere relatively nice, and the El Tovar dining room meets that criterion. Little did I know that this, too, was going to be greeted with discomfort. He’d never eaten in such a nice place and was wondering when he’d be asked to leave.

Some background is probably in order, and hopefully, I don’t cross the line of information that would intrude on anybody’s privacy, but this seriously nice and generous guy has been traveling a difficult road of uncertainty and his own fair share of relative bad luck. From estranged family members, homelessness, a short stint in the military, and some time in the Phoenix area that didn’t bring him to finding himself, he’s once again going to be looking for that thing that’s been elusive to his search.

His own generosity was gifted to three fellow veterans who were also in need by sharing his apartment with them. His hope was that with someone else caring about their welfare, they’d recognize the gesture and that it would help them escape their own personal discomfort of trying to exist in the chasm of what can be an isolating American life where the economy is the space between, and community is like the snow on the ground: cold and soon thin or gone. Little seems to have come from his efforts, as it appears they benefited at his expense.

Now, without a penny to his name but in possession of a plane ticket, Chris will leave Arizona, having seen one of the seven wonders of the earth. His destination is home. It leaves people who know him asking why and trying to warn him about the dangers of going home where the ruin of what was will likely be in a greater state of decay. The distance of time doesn’t close the gap or work to create bridges to places that didn’t exist in the first place, but as a bit of a fatalist, he doesn’t know what else to do.

Chris is approaching 30 years old and is still wandering somewhere deep within, unable to see real options ahead. It seems that the distance to his other side is on a scale with the Grand Canyon. His vertigo and discomfort with situations right before him have him taking a step back to the relative comfort of what he knows. I sure hope his next move is into a future that helps him find what he’s looking for.