Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Exhausted from the hike, I reach for the water bottle I had just set on the uneven ground. As I try to compose myself and sip on my now warm water, I allow my eyes to scan the sight in front of me.

“Woah,” I say to no one in particular. I can’t seem to find just one thing to focus on. My eyes jump from the thousands of trees below to the orange mountains in the distance to the slim bridge in front of me to the long fall below. 

The view in front of me looks like a painting; Arizona’s beauty will never disappoint. One of my favorite parts of the sight is the vibrant colors; they are such a contrast to the white snow back home. Looking down to the ground hundreds of feet below me, I should feel nervous, but the scene before me is just peaceful. 

It feels weird to be so at peace in this moment. As the memories of months prior replay through my mind like the notes on a record, I recall stress and anxiety and anger and worry... Yet all I feel now is calm. 

However, my calm interior differs from the sweaty and tired mess I am on the outside. Burnt orange dust now covers my white tank top and shorts, glistening sweat drips down my forehead, my eyes are red and squinted from the dust blowing in my face, and I am still breathing heavily. Despite all this, I take a picture. In fact, I take several pictures.

First, I capture photos of the view in front of me and I’m disappointed, but not surprised, that the camera does not fully capture the beauty. I then cross the bridge. Telling myself to look out, not down, is nearly impossible as I must carefully tread across the uneven ground. Pausing toward the middle of the bridge, I take another picture. I smile into the lens as if the picture were being taken of me; I can’t help it. Continuing my walk across the bridge, I take several more photos. Nearly all of them look the same, but it feels wrong not to take as many photos as possible of the beautiful sight. 

Once I reach the end of the bridge, I find a rock, sit down, and watch the other hikers around me take in the view we all worked so hard to reach. I see a man encouraging his wife to cross the bridge, I see families smiling and taking pictures together, I see a boy pretending to push his brother off the edge of the bridge. I smile to myself and take one last picture before making my way back down the mountain.