ALONG THE WAY

The Perfect Gift: An Indigo Sky, a Rainbow and a Family's Love

SPECTACULAR SKIES HAPPEN so often in Arizona one could almost become blasé. When I see people trudging with their heads down while vivid beauty blazes above, I want to stop them, tilt their chin up and say, "Look what you're missing!" I haven't ever done it, but I have become a sunset collector, a connoisseur-storing images away in memory to share judiciously like succulent tidbits with family and friends who live elsewhere. I try to exercise discretion-I don't want to brag since I don't make the sunsets, but sometimes you can't help sharing something extraordinary. If they've never been to the Southwest, it's hard for people to believe. My brother-in-law fromthe Midwest once said doubtfully, "I don't think the sky can do that." But it does, and our family will drop everything to run outside and admire a superb show. It takes just one experience to make a believer of you.

I was 8 years old when a sunset first reverberated through me like a great, silent bell. That afternoon I had roamed the desert hills above our farm in northwestern New Mexico, come home for dinner and stepped outside into a soft breeze. The sun was just setting behind our house. In the east, above the green valley floor and golden cliffs, a huge, cumulus cloud formation billowed nearly to the zenith of the sky. It glowed against an indigo heaven, a tumbled melange of pink and gold and lavender so glorious it made me ache. I stood, filling myself with it, stunned by the power of its beauty. That was the beginning of my collection. The crown jewel came years later.

It was my birthday. The year had been a hard one with many challenges, including my extended illness. My husband and children had said nothing about a celebration; I felt sad and neglected. I came downstairs to prepare dinner. Suddenly someone wrapped a pair of arms around me from behind, and with much laughter I was quickly blindfolded by severalpairs of hands. "Okay, Mom, we're going for a ride. Birthday time!"

They hustled me out the door and into the waiting car. I could smell fried chicken. Away we went, with exclamations and a running commentary of exaggerated near-disasters such as, "Watch out for that big car-hold on, Mom!" Slam on the brakes. "Man, it nearly hit us-that was close!" A squeal of tires, quick cornering and a fast sideways weave"You nearly hit that little kid!" I gasped appropriately, but of course could see nothing.

Eventually we arrived somewhere. They escorted me out of the car, still blindfolded, and holding my hands led me around, telling me to step up, duck under and so forth. Finally they guided me up a rocky incline, carefully positioned me, and with a flourish and a "Ta Da!" removed my blindfold. There spread before me was Tucson. The sun, setting behind jagged, deep-purple mountains, scintillated in a blaze of trailing clouds.

Tucson sits in a huge Sonoran Desert valley with craggy mountain ranges to each of the four directions. We stood near the entrance to Sabino Canyon at the foot of Mount Lemmon, the city's northern "sky island." Beside us the mountainside glowed with golden light against a backdrop of folded foothills blushing deeper and deeper rose. Behind them the sky was dark blue with storm clouds. Against that dark sky arched a radiant, full rainbow. I could only gasp.

Just then, a fine mist of rain began to fall. Each raindrop caught the sun and everything around us brightened with a shimmering veil of liquid gold. We stood speechless, surrounded by beauty beyond words.

I thought of the Master Artist, who must take great pleasure in creating beauty, and of how fortunate we were to experience this particular, exquisite moment. And I realized I would never in my life receive a more perfect birthday gift.

When I could speak, I turned to my children. Thinking of their efforts to make my birthday special, knowing that this glory happened only by some blessed coincidence, wanting them somehow to know what it all meant to me, I asked, laughing around the lump in my throat, "How did you do this?"

My daughter smiled into my eyes. "For your birthday, Mom." My son put his arm around my shoulder, and grinning down at me said, "Connections, Mom. We've got connections."

I believe they do.

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