I remember the first time I went to White Sands—I was broken hearted and felt like hope was something I’d never experience again. I took the first steps out onto the sand and walked as far as I could to get away from everyone, climbing over dunes until the sand seemed to go on infinitely in every direction. As I watched the sun set, the shadows in the sand turned from silver to blue to purple, and the sky went from blue to yellow to pink. Each second was something out of a dream—I couldn’t believe I was experiencing it for myself.

For the first time in a long time, I experienced joy. I was surrounded by a scene so heavenly it couldn’t possibly be real. Was I even alive anymore? The world seemed too perfect, everything felt weightless. If there’s an afterlife, I hope that’s what it feels like.

I’ve been craving that feeling ever since my first trip there. There’s something about joy that makes you want it over and over again. When you look back on memories, the joyful ones always seems to be the first to come to mind.

I came back to White Sands feeling lost, in need of direction, looking for any signs from the universe. I went alone. I walked miles into the sand and laid there, waiting for that feeling to return. I picked up the sand and let it go watching it sparkle in the sunlight. A few dunes to the left of me I saw a couple holding hands, falling in love in a place where love just makes sense.

As the sun began to set, I saw horses in the distance galloping majestically over the white dunes with the sun setting behind them. In tandem, they rode across the lands like out of a fairytale.

I watched the sun set and the feeling of joy I’d be craving for was all around me.