My husband and I had found the desert house accidentally. Each winter, we'd leave our snowy northern home for a few weeks and head to Death Valley to join other pale snowbirds on a heat-seeking mission. We checked out of our overly busy lives to wander mosaic canyons and moonlit dunes. We said hello to lizards and stretched our winter-tight bodies. We took pictures of each other waist high in leggy golden desert daisies; it was a delight to see my burly blond husband frolic in wildflowers. Because of his work, I rarely see him; these photos are proof of life.
The year my mother had her “gather the family” stroke, which she partially survived—her mind did not—we ventured farther south, to Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California's largest at 600,000 acres. A tiny town that would not look out of place in Mexico sits in the middle of it. The...
