The Prodigious Canyon by Chantal Copeland

I remember the date, April 21st. The beaming sun blinded my eyes as I climbed out of our rented minivan. I followed my parents to an information booth, fooling around with my siblings on the way.

“Two adults and three children please,” I heard my dad tell the cramped lady in the booth. We were at the Grand Canyon, our vacation spot. I was only in grade school then, a happy girl looking forward to spending the day in the fresh air with my family all around.

We met up with our tour guide, Sheryl.

“Alright everyone, stay close behind so you don’t get lost, and stay away from the edges!”

I’ve seen pictures of the Grand Canyon dozens of times: on television, in school textbooks, in my Ranger Rick magazines, but none of those pictures prepared me for what I saw.

The cliffs, the rocks, the valley down, down, down below were all so big, all so deep, all so scary! With my eyes closed, I crept towards the edge just a little. When I opened them, I gulped. I moved my eyes from the cliff to my blue and white Adidas tennis shoes that were covered in orange dust from the loose ground underneath. Lying in front of me was a round stone. I swung my right foot back and gave the stone a kick. Over the cliff the rock went. I watched it fall. All of a sudden, the rock disappeared. It was still falling, I was sure. The valley was so deep that I never actually saw it hit the ground (I thought that it never would). Oh my gosh, that could have been me!

Our tour group was moving on. I watched my brother hop onto my sister’s back, and she ran off, giggling.

“Tfh rjdioare hoaiotr jip e. Hrhte jugjof k gjfo  jr th s rjg, jirs. Kojri gif jr k ioue jhfuew,” Sheryl informed the group.

I couldn’t make out a word; it was all gibberish to me. My mind was so fixated on other things. Bigger things. Important things. Way more important than what the tour guide was saying or what anyone around could say.

“It’s death, people!” I felt like shouting. How could people continue on like it was no big deal when death was so close to them? A step or two the wrong way and then…..That was it. It was done. It was over.

This thought sent me into a sudden case of vertigo. The ground beneath my feet was experiencing an earthquake. The large tree off to the side of my vision was going up and down, up and down.

“Chantal, come on!” my mother hollered.

I snapped out of it, took a breath, and ran to the rest of the group.

The tour continued. The whole time I kept my distance from the edge of the canyon, my eyes glued only to what was directly in front of my feet. My mind was still fixed on the subject of death.

Then the group ceased and the tour guide hushed her mouth. The place fell silent and remained so for a long time. The only sound was a slight ruffle of the leaves on a nearby branch. I became curious as to why the stillness. Back on the path, when we were so close to death, why did no one take a silent moment to take it all in, but now they were? Why I thought, “Why?”

Without being in any communication with my eyes, they started to move. Away from the ground, they slowly went to the canyon. I couldn’t believe it; the site I saw was magnificent! The morning sun behind me reflected onto the rock below, creating a scene that had such beauty that no picture would ever live up to what my eyes were experiencing. No wonder the place was silent. It looked as if God had painted perfectly colored stripes along the canyon’s wall.

Oh wait….God. My mind took a quick detour back to the thought of death. I was so appalled by my naïveté. There is more to life than just Earth. I knew that. How could I have forgotten? Look what He had created; look at me! I was a worried mess.

My perception changed, my mood lifted, my hope was restored. And with that, I followed the group as we continued, admiring the view all around.