Thank you Linda Mitchell for the invitation to write this month about what is on our hearts. If you’re reading this and you’re not part of the Spiritual Journey cohort, I invite you to join us here for a little monthly reflection.
I Never Intended to Stay (1991-2026)
A barren brownscape brooded beyond the window of my plane.
I saw bleak. I saw blight. Dry grass
will do that when August blazes.
Concrete and freeway sprawl carried nameless faces
to tech jobs in colorless halls..
Who’d want to live here?
Five years later, toddler in tow, I agreed,
this would be home. But…
We won’t stay long, right? You’ll get me back
to California –her hills are gold.
And then, it rained.
And this desert raised me.
And we raised a family.
Prickly pear, night-blooming cereus,
saguaro’s May crowning.
Yellow season and petrichor…
it all spells love.
Yesterday, summer’s dusty haze hovered below my plane.
Four Peaks, the Superstitions, Camelback sighed.
Here, home, for a short time––
to arrange a move. I will leave this place.
My heart, a desert.
photos and poem ©2026 Patricia J. Franz
Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains.
Patricia: We moved from MN to NJ in 1986. I said at the time that we should probably stay a year or two. Now, I can’t move away from friends and kids and grandkids. I’ve come to love the beauty and history of the garden state. I still have much to discover. We never know where life will lead us. The challenge is to find life and joy and beauty where we are. So… I’m with you. It is entirely appropriate to grieve, and then I hope you will find peace.
Oh, this poem had me holding my breath…it holds so much of the emotion I’m grappling with these days. My husband wants to move. But, we aren’t yet retired. I raised our babies here. I’ve lived here longer than anywhere else. Move? What?! And yet, we need a home that’s good for a retired couple with adult children…we’ve been looking and daydreaming. It’s still on the horizon. But, this poem. It holds so much of what’s brewing. Thank you for this.
Patricia, moves are devastating. We familiar for unfamiliar. We leave a lifestyle we are accustomed to and comfortable with to one that makes us think why anyone would choose to live there. The we settle in and unfamiliar becomes familiar. Wondering why anyone would choose to live there becomes why would I want to live anywhere else. Life moves on. Circumstances change. We find ourselves on the move again. Hearts heavy because we are once again leaving the familiar and comfortable.