1 Day to Burning Man
Then came Heather.
I had sworn off Burning Man and she’d never been. She looked me in the eye and said, “please.” Then she looked me in the eye and said, “I’m going.” So we went.
Burning Man 2001 was like a rebirth. Like Europe had been. A place so new that it feels like you’re made new, too.
It was the year of extreme dust. Total whiteouts every day. But it didn’t matter. Every time I felt that old stress creep back, she was there to remind me that everything was okay.
Burning Man 2002 was even better. We found a warm home with the Vogons. It was the best weather I’d ever seen at Burning Man. And while I occasionally had pangs for the smallness and the danger of the earlier years, Burning Man remained a true fountain of joy.
Tomorrow we pack the rental van and head back into the desert one more time. It’ll be good to be home again.