I’m a New England girl in Las Vegas for a few days of work. It’s dawn. I’m crossing a skybridge, arms full, still on East Coast time, due somewhere soon.
At home, I care for a rare, wild spirit. Much of my life is keeping him safe without making his world small. I’m used to moving through one moment with my mind already in the next.
Then I stop for this.
New York in the desert. A castle beside the palms. Liberty holding her torch above it all. Buildings traveling across the glass.
Here, even the city itself is a traveler.
And a caregiver of sorts, too. Of people, imperfectly. Of a rare, wild spirit of freedom: the part of us that still wants to wander and be surprised. Someone is making a bed, carrying a tray, helping a visitor find their way. I think about all the work that goes into making someone else’s day a little easier, a little more fun.
Full arms here, too.
I recognize that work. I know the pleasure of seeing someone enjoy what you helped make possible. For a few days, I get to be the guest.
A pigeon walks toward the edge of the photograph. A city built to make you look up, and a small bird worth looking down for.
There’s room for this New England girl, too.
My arms are still full. I take the picture and go to work with a little more of the morning to keep.
I can’t wait to go back.
Viva Las Vegas.