I awoke just before 4. The sky was
beginning to lighten, only a few stars still visible. At the bottom of the
window parallel to the pillow where my head lie, a tinge of light almost visibly
expanded. Sleep reclaimed me, but I opened my eyes again shortly after five to
brilliant pink and a half ball of sun at the horizon. Louise Erdrich suffered
from horizon sickness when she lived in New Hampshire and longed for the North
Dakota skyline she was born to. I did not grow up with such vastness, but have
found my home in it. At the end of every road: vastness, Erdrich mused. Out of
every window: vastness, I would add. The horizon is full of openness and possibility;
it is a place your mind can fly to.
