Twentynine Palms Highway

The Little San Bernardino mountains painted the sky on our journey to Joshua Tree. There was a late November bite to the California air, but we rented a convertible for the weekend and refused to drive it with the roof on. Our red MINI Cooper coasted down Twentynine Palms Highway with its heaters blasting. The wind whipped my hair into knots as my sister flipped through our favorite songs. We screamed along to Taylor Swift and The Lumineers between bites of drive-through breakfast burritos. Cacti covered their ears as we peeled through the desert.

We pulled over and climbed onto a boulder as the sun dipped below the horizon. Its rays kissed the desert, crowning each cactus with a golden halo. We played cards as dusk crept in, then laid in the sand to greet the stars. Twilight blanketed us as the desert fell asleep.