Beginning

As the 737 circled for a second landing attempt, I wondered if this would be the beginning of the end to my journey. High winds from nearby tornadoes rocked the aircraft through the twilight sky as we lowered closer to the runway. I huddled against the window, my eyes squeezing closed as my ears waited to hear the thud of the tires finding earth. At touch down a single handclap turned into a wave of spontaneous applause from relieved travelers. “Lucky again,” I murmured. When I opened my eyes to a lone tumbleweed whirling alongside the wing lights of the plane, I knew I had chosen the correct path. I loved tumbleweeds. To me they epitomized the unkempt, roaming spirit of the West, a place from my dreams.