Page 53 of Ms. Lead

That changes when the ground seems to disappear, and a sheer drop off the canyon proper opens up to us, revealing the stunning multicolored tiers surrounding the twisting and turning Colorado River.

Oliver grips my hand tightly as he first takes in the canyon's vastness. It’s hard to see his reaction with those damned sunglasses on again, but he looks a little pale for a minute. As we approach the North Rim, with its green rolling hills, it’s a sharp contrast to the reds and oranges of the rock walls.

It's hot in the helicopter, which I didn’t consider, and the sun raging through the little glass bubble we’re traveling in only seems to turn up the temperature that much more. By the time we land at the airport, I have that too much sun feeling, like I’ve spent the entire day soaking up rays on the beach.

Oliver seems to be affected the same way as me and is a little dizzy when he steps out of the helicopter. I grab his arm to hold him steady, and we laugh it off as him being so impressed he’s stupefied. And that’s fine. If he wants to joke about things, I am happy to do so today.

We drive a little north into a business district with hotels and a park visitor center and grab dinner at a local steakhouse. We’re able to cool off while going shop to shop in the area before and after we eat, looking at the overpriced souvenirs.

“I think this is the one,” I hear from behind me as I peruse the snow globes. When I turn around, I see Oliver holding up a t-shirt under his chin that reads, ‘A Hole. A Big, Big, Hole.’

I burst into laughter, trying to imagine him ever wearing something so novel and kitschy.

“I think you’re right. It’s perfect.”

After one more hour of playing tourist, it’s time to drive to the park's last stop of the day, Navajo Point, near the East entrance. It’s my favorite spot in the canyon to watch a sunset. It’s basically a parking lot with an overlook, but the great thing, and the scariest thing about the Grand Canyon, is that you can pretty much walk up to the edge just about everywhere.

The drive takes under an hour, but Oliver falls asleep not long into the journey. He looked exhausted right before we left, and I was worried he was overdoing it.

I don’t know what his limits are with his MS, and he sure as hell has made it clear he isn’t going to tell me. So, I need to be extra diligent and observant to watch for changes in him.

Another thing I noticed was that he was also covering up a very slight limp toward the end. He’s very good at hiding it, stopping every other step to look at something, but putting his weight on his left leg while standing still.

I’m not fooled.

With all of that, I don’t mind that he fell asleep. And he can fall asleep on the way home too, but he has to see a Grand Canyon sunset.

I pull into the parking lot and am glad there aren’t too many other tourists with the same idea. During the summer, these spots can get overcrowded with buses full of people, but at this time of day, most touring jaunts are over. It’s perfect timing as the sun is low but not too far gone yet. The color show has just started.

After shutting off the car, I lean over the middle console and kiss Oliver’s forehead lightly.

“Hey, sleepy head. We’re here.”

A smile spreads on his lips, but he keeps his eyes closed.

“But I don’t wanna go to school today…” he whines, then chuckles, returning the forehead kiss to me. He looks around and notices where we are, eyes wide. “Is it starting?”

“Just about,” I say, opening my door and jumping out. “C’mon, let’s go find a good spot.” I reach into the back seat and grab the blanket I brought for us to sit on.

He takes a minute, but steps out of the SUV, balancing himself against the car briefly. I pretend again not to notice and busy myself folding and refolding the blanket.

I wish I knew what he wanted me to do in these situations. If I acknowledge it, I feel like I’m somehow undermining or babying him, which I know he doesn’t want. I’ll need to be stealthy.

“C’mon, slowpoke,” I chide with a laugh.

Walking back for him, I slide my arm through his on his right side, slowly helping him along by leaning against him but holding him up at the same time. It’s a balancing act, but I think it’s working.

I usually would sit a little way out, but I see a spot not too far away that will be fine for us. Away from other people, but still with a great view.

Once we get to the edge area I’d set my sights on, I let go of him to spread the blanket.

“Do you want to dangle your feet into the canyon? Or play it safe from the edge?”

He frowns, stepping toward the edge briefly to check it out, but then sways on his feet slightly.

“Whoa,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead, obviously dizzy.

I panic and nearly tackle him as I push him away from the edge. My heart is in my throat as my mind flashes visions of him falling over and into the canyon.

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