Mary Abbott

A Tissue Full of Desert Sand Mary Abbott

It was pouring rain and the wind blew the water sideways, the puddles dancing as though they contained invisible little dervishes. It was impossible to see out the taxi window so I kept lowering it and sticking my head out to take in as much as possible before leaving this magical place. There was little time and I had gone through so much to get here.

I kept telling myself that it was better than nothing, but was it? I had looked so forward to seeing this land that when stormy seas decided it was impossible, I actually felt like going home. The trip was over for me.

My friend and I, with two strangers, found a taxi driver who would show us what he could. He was a kind man who spoke no English. At one point he stopped the car so that we could gaze at a rainbow. The rainbow lied, weather only got worse.

It was time to leave if we were to make it back to the ship before it sailed. Through the rain and mist I saw something white... an image of a perfect white horse.

It wasn't just the horse or location that affected me; it was as if he was looking right into my eyes and saying, "Come, I will show you all of Patagonia."

I held my camera out the window and pushed the button.