4 ... Gabriel MorrisI wasn’t quite sure of my plans once I left the desert outside of
Santa Rosa, New Mexico. The more I thought about Amy, the more
I wanted to be with her. But other than a few postcards I’d sent along
the way, I hadn’t actually communicated in person with her in al-
most three months. I had no idea how she really felt about me now,
or if there was anything left of the fragment of a relationship we had
shared over the summer. I finally decided that the only way to find
out for sure was to give her a call, before actually showing up on her
doorstep.
I took down my tent from my desert camping spot and packed up
the rest of my belongings late in the afternoon. After four days in the
desert I felt strong, clear, and present. At the same time, I felt such
intensity within my soul that it was almost too much to contain. I
was getting so tired of wandering alone through the world, stum-
bling and bumbling along on this confusing, mystical spiritual quest.
What was I really doing out here in the middle of the desert in late
October? I yearned so deeply to know the real purpose of this path
I walked—which more often seemed to be guiding me, rather than
being guided by me.
I strapped on my backpack and hiked the two miles back to the
highway and into the town of Santa Rosa, intending to stay that night
in a cheap hotel. I found one for $20 and checked in, relieved to finally
get to sleep on a soft bed, in an enclosed room for a change, with a
shower, flush toilet and TV—those domestic comforts that I wished
to remove myself from at times, but definitely still appreciated. I took
a long, hot shower, then sat down on the bed and called Amy.
Her mom answered (she was staying with her mom while look-
ing for her own place), and said she would get her. Finally, there was
Amy’s voice at the other end of the line.
“Amy?” I said.
“Yes?” she said softly.
“Hello, this is Gabriel...How are you?”
“Gabe! I’m all right...how are you? Where are you?”
“I’m in New Mexico. I just spent a couple of days in the desert. I’m