The Painted Desert
2005-06-29, 8:55 p.m.

I can�t say that there was one pivotal moment in my childhood, my teenage years, my adulthood that has left me with the struggles I now face. There wasn�t one thing, one moment that shaped me. Instead, there were thousands, millions of tiny things. Like grains of sand that pile on each other to form a beach. Or rocks that gather to eventually form a mountain, so too has this Janet been formed. When I survey the landscape of my life, it looks so permanent, so unchangeable. But I know that, just as Mt. Everest can grow a foot in 100 years, I too am changing. Slowly, sometimes imperceptibly. But still, changing. And I hope that when all is said and done, when I look back in a year to notice the changes, I hope that the rivers in my life, the winds and the storms, the hands of time, I hope that they will leave in their place something of beauty � my own Grand Canyon, my own Big Sur, my own Painted Desert. That is what I wish for now, tonight, as I lay in my bed and try to figure out what I want, where I�m going or even if I have to go anywhere.

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