Almost 30 years ago, I decided I wanted to live in the Grand Canyon. Not “in the town near the Grand Canyon.” Not “a cute hotel with canyon-y views.” I mean IN the actual park. Like… wake up, brush teeth, casually exist next to one of the Seven Wonders. Here’s the part that makes it extra unhinged: at the time, I hadn’t even been there. The closest I’d gotten to Arizona was a Phoenix layover and whatever airport nachos I could emotionally justify. I didn’t even start really exploring the Southwest until 2023… but that little dream? It just sat there. Quiet. Patient. Like it knew something I didn’t. And then in May 2025… I finally did it. Yep. I lived in the Grand Canyon for a little over two months — North Rim (aka the quieter, less touristy, higher-elevation side that feels like the Canyon’s introvert twin). I got a job out there, and it came with employee housing inside the park. Which still feels fake to say out loud. And it wasn’t just “cool.” It was one of those experiences that rearranges your insides a little. The first time I pulled over and saw the Canyon in real life, my brain straight up refused to process it. Like: nope, that’s a backdrop. That’s a painting somebody commissioned. It took me a couple weeks to fully accept - this is not art. This is geology showing off. Then came the night sky. The first night I sat outside with my stargazing binoculars - whew! I’m talking a disrespectful amount of stars. Like the universe was being dramatic on purpose. Stars blinking... shooting... doing the cha-cha slide and whatnot. (And yes, I’m aware this makes me sound like someone who owns crystals and says “downloads,” but I swear I saw more than one UFO. 😅 Or… a "satellite," if that helps you sleep better at night lol.) In my free time, I learned how to hike the North Kaibab trial - one of the most strenuous trails in the Canyon. There's a sign that says, "You don't have to go down, but you have to come back up." I didn't understand how funny in a wheezing, leg-shaking-kind-of-way, that sign was.