I was born at the foot of the mountain. I’ve lived other places, but eventually I came back through a series of unintended coincidences. She wanted me to stay. She brought me gifts of rare feathers, semi-precious stones, and scents that I didn’t remember that I remembered. There was the sweet scent of rain moistening resinous desert plants, and the distinct spiciness of desert herbs powdered to dust and blown into the reddish iron rich crevices of lava rock. The final gift, of a like-minded and like-hearted army veteran convinced me to stay. Apparently, the City meant business.
I wasn’t all that happy about living in the desert. I used to swear to everyone that I’d go back to the Hillcountry with its junipers, live oaks, and bluebonnets. I do still miss that land, but this one needs me more. She is dry and dusty, not as flashy as her sisters to the north in New Mexico. She is the subject of a lot of bad talk. They say she’s dirty and you’ll find better opportunities if you leave. On the other hand, it would probably surprise people to know that she’s been ranked as the safest city above 500 thousand in the US. Just don’t visit her twin to the south. Juarez is improving, but, it still has a long way to go. Residents here remember taking the trolly across the border to go to the mercado, or to restaurants or night clubs. We don’t do that anymore, but that’s a whole different, very sad, story. (Don’t buy drugs kids. The life you ruin may not be your own.)
Most of my magical work is done on her behalf. It has been that way since two weeks prior to 9/11. I didn’t know what would happen. I “saw” a black rain falling, and I put up an umbrella, a shield, over the entire city. I was young and no one told me that I couldn’t do it. I’ve been keeping an eye on the place ever since with workings of protection and prosperity, sometimes trying to coax a few drops of rain out of the sky to bring some relief from the drought. I always wish I could do more.
I honor the local spirits of this place. I see the Thunderbird’s portrait on the side of the mountain from my front window. I talk to the Mountain. I know this place is filled with gods, spirits, saints and angels from all over the world, as the residents have brought them here. I like it that way. The otherside is full of life in this place.
I lived here for years before I became Kemetic. This land seems like a good place for it. In the old days, they understood the value of working civic magic too. I find it funny that I live in the Sun City next to the Great River. I know that water is life, and the river makes it possible. The irrigation canals the farmers use here are not so different from those in ancient Egypt. There is a cooperative system in place to make sure everyone gets their share. It’s not computerized. Someone must actually go out there and open and close the gates on the right days. But the reservoir to the north is low. The river won’t flow until June this year. My prayers are with the farmers.