“We’re going to take some pictures of you doing crazy things in your town,” my sister informs me as we walk down the sidewalk.
“Like what?” I ask warily.
She looks around. Up a small hill, next to a building we see a rusty replica of a relic from the mining history of the town—a transport car, sitting on some tracks.
“Go sit in that,” she says, pointing to it.
“What? No,” I say, eyeing the busy street, which we were walking down—the main street of the small town.
“Just do it.” She gives me a shove.
I perch myself on the very end of the train car (as seen in the photo) and she takes a picture.
“I swear, Kasie, you are such a wimp. Let me show you how it’s done.” She drops her purse on the sidewalk and marches up the hill.
While the cars whiz by behind me, I take the shot. (make sure you click on it to get the close up, because her face is hilarious) I’m quickly realizing (actually I have always known it) that I have a healthy fear of getting in trouble. (My parents probably loved it when I was a teenager because I never wanted to do anything that I might have gotten yelled at for.)
The following are some other fun shots from the town:
On our way home after the incredible day, the sun setting in my rear view mirror, I decide I need one last photo—a backlit cactus. I eye the hills that surround us on the desert highway. The first one I find, we both get out of the car and trudge up a hill. (Did I already mention my brown wedges and my aching blisters?)
“Not good enough,” I say, once we’re back in the car (after much complaining about my feet) as I study the shots in the viewfinder.
My sister sighs.
We drive further and I find the perfect one. Pulling over, our headlights shine onto a barbed wire fence. “Ah, man,” I say in disappointment.
“Give me the camera.” My sister holds her hand out. I place it in her upturned palm. She exits the car.
“Are you really going to do it?” I ask, opening my own door and following her.
“Do you want the shot or don’t you?”
“I don’t know if I want it that bad.”
She rolls her eyes. “Are you going to try to kill us again by pulling off the side of the road in front of a semi and next to a railing if we don’t get this shot?”
I consider this. “Possibly,” I decide.
With a quick look around she steps over the fence. Wow, she has long legs, I note mentally. She runs towards the cactus in the distance.
“Make sure you get it from all angles!” I yell after her from my safe place on the correct side of the fence. The side that I can’t get taken to jail for. I sigh happily as I watch her take the pictures.
As she runs back towards me and moves to step over the fence I call out “Wait!”
“What now?” she askes.
“I need a picture of you and your deviant acts,” I say, reaching for the camera.
I give you, my sister, the rebel and the shot she risked her freedom for: