The Muse and the Mesquite Tree
There’s a mesquite tree on the west side of I-10 halfway between Phoenix and Tucson that I will never forget. We bonded several years ago – I left my mark on him, and he left his on me. But our brief encounter was not the most memorable part of that day – that came much later under a desert sky when my favorite singer returned to the stage after a stunning performance and played an encore just for me. It was Mother’s Day, May 9, 2004, and my husband and I decide to pass on the tortuous three-hour wait outside Olive Garden for a mediocre lunch and a wilted pink carnation. We had bigger plans. We were going to Tucson to see Josh Groban in concert. After dropping the kids off with the in-laws in Sun City, we high-tailed it out of Phoenix, stopping only for a quick bite at In-N-Out on the edge of town. Thirty minutes later, I was sucking air through my straw, rattling ice in the bottom of my cup and staring at a long line of red tail lights in fr...
