They have the museums for cowboys. Statues of horses and gunslingers bronzed in front of banks — even in the smallest of towns. Bison guarding the road. Oil pumps, methodically telling a piece of the story. But no one told us how beautiful the landscape would be. The rolling fields of my favorite palette. Muted greens and golds, with subtle tans. Simply gorgeous! We pointed out our respective car windows. Look! Look! The red dirt contrasting, bearing witness to all that had been survived, and still came out beautiful. And I wondered where was Oklahoma’s Georgia O’Keeffe? Who was singing the praises? What would Cezanne have done with this landscape?

There was nowhere for me to pull the car over. No shoulders. “I guess no one but us wants to pull over and take pictures,” my husband said. I smiled, because it made me feel special — us feel special. We could see it. The extraordinary beauty. I memorized the colors in my heart.

It’s funny how our first thoughts are always “Why isn’t someone doing something…” But I can be that someone. I will paint that palette. I will do it! Let it be me!

It is not a hardship to bear, to see it. It is a privilege. With everything. With everyone. When someone lets you in, it is the gift they give to you. Don’t be careless with it. Embrace it! They are not waiting for Georgia or Paul, they chose you. You. Give thanks for that. Every day.