A Weekend In Phoenix

After the sun dipped below the horizon, we looked up from the lacquered wooden picnic table in an outdoor beer garden that is typical of Roosevelt Row and stared blankly at one of the most colorful sunsets we'd seen in years. The light cotton candy pink and azure sky had darkened, first to a burnt orange reminiscent of a Texas Longhorn, then to a deep red and purple. The blood red backdrop filled every inch of the sky while the light darkened and darkened. All we could do was stare. And take pictures. We had to get pictures.

Sunsets like these are why I continue to be drawn to the desert. What seems so desolate and inhospitable below turns into a canvas above, better than anything that could be witnessed in a museum.

We arrived on Friday afternoon, an 89 degree day promising exactly what we sought. Heat and sunshine. After a dark and cold Washington winter and spring, our bodies needed warm air, our minds needed bright light and both demanded relaxation. It's my partner's 40th birthday this month. Her best friend (who officiated our wedding) and his partner were joining us, and we were excited to show them the city we once lived, that we loved to return to, that had gotten such a better food scene since we moved away (and began earning reasonable wages).

Poolside lounge chairs greeted us, and we jumped in before our friends' plane had even landed. After picking them up and stopping in for a happy hour and procuring one of Phoenix's underrated pizzas (seriously, just try a woodfired pizza from here, the crust is like biting into a cloud), we returned to our AirBnb and ate outside, because you can do that in Phoenix, sharing life updates, stories from home, and everything else close friends who live in different states need to do to get caught up.

The act of sitting outside for every meal of the day is a luxury those of us who live in colder climates don't understand until we experience it. There's a level of relaxation and freedom that locking oneself inside while rain or snow beats down outside can't access. It's no wonder why so many move south after retirement. Life in these areas is a reward.

Yes, it's hot, but with access to a pool, air conditioning, or misters, it's manageable. The sleek shine of oil from sunscreen on the top of the pool water highlights the dangers the sun brings, but like everything, there's a trade off. Mornings and nights are for walking. Smaller meals are needed because less padding is necessary. Winter boots are replaced with flip flops, rain jackets for shorts, streaming shows are replaced by poolsides with favorite books.

Yes, Phoenix is running out of water. Yes, it's a big city, but it's a vibrant one too. It's one of the places I still consider "home" and always will. And upon arrival, the first time I roll down the window and feel the warm air relax the top of my skin as I take in my first glimpses of the palms providing rare shade to the ground below, I feel like I belong.