The Magnolia Journal – July 2019

(Chris Devlin) #1

58


1


They’ve been putting this thing on every year since I was a


kid, and there’s not a single memory that I have of watching


them lift off that doesn’t still give me goose bumps.


Jo and the kids didn’t need much convincing when I


promised such a spectacle at the end of the road. But


asking my entire family to travel to a place that means


so much to me and really nothing at all to them was a


little risky. Add in a 15-hour drive, four kids, and a


4-month-old baby, and I figured there was a chance that


this whole thing could backfire.


Fortunately, everyone thought the balloon fiesta was


absolute magic. As for me, I could hardly believe that


it lived up to the memories I’d been carrying around for


decades. In fact, all of it was still there: the tired,


predawn eyes, the anticipation, the million-dollar view


as hundreds of balloons filled the morning sky.


That weekend was made special not just by the thrill of


watching those balloons take off, but also in the more


mundane moments—driving everyone by the first house I


lived in and the neighborhood office park where my sister


and I rode our bikes. Seeing all of those long-forgotten


yet somehow familiar sights brought a million childhood


stories to mind, and the kids loved hearing each and every


one. I realized that even if my current-day memory of some


of my childhood moments isn’t a hundred percent accurate,


they’re ingrained in who I am, and it was honoring my past


to be able to introduce it to my present. In the process,


my kids gained a clearer understanding of where I came


from and how that influenced our family. I can see how it


might be easy for people to let their pasts fade out of


sight, year after year, content to choose the view ahead


instead of looking in the rearview mirror; but this trip


brought me face-to-face with a lot of memories that have,


over time, slipped from my sight. Stories that began on


those neighborhood streets and on the school playground


are still being told through me, some 40 years later. Even


if it all seems like ancient history, as it turned out,


going back home showed me that not only is this where


I came from, but it also still shapes who I am today.


During our trip, we stopped at some of my favorite local


spots and discovered a few new ones. They’re all listed


here, along with other recommendations that stretch from


Albuquerque through Santa Fe all the way north to the


well-known ski town of Taos.

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