German curse words echoed through the hallway as my landlord wrestled with a rusty bolt. This became the house’s background noise for the last six months, as he attempted to fix the never ending broken toilet in the hallway.

At first, it was unable to flush. Easy fix, helpful landlord.

Two days after the easy fix, the toilet stopped flushing and started leaking. Shut off the water, call the landlord again.

A rusted bolt, not the right tools, try again the next day. Or maybe next week.

Then, a part replacement was needed. Off to the only store in town to buy two parts, in case one didn’t work. Both parts were the wrong fit, so he turned to the internet to order the next part, to be installed in a few days, make a next week.

A series of months passed like this until two days ago. Our landlord came “to finally fix the toilet” with his son, who supposedly knew more about plumbing. Our dogs ran up and down the hallway chasing each other with tongues dripping water on the floor. Inside and outside, tracking sand in the carpet until my landlord walked out with the toilet in hand.

“This toilet has got to go!” he said, taking the toilet out the front door.

When he came back he said, “You’re getting a new toilet and a helicopter ride.”

“A what?” my mom asked, who arrived mere hours before.

“I am so sorry this has taken so long, I’ll get you a new toilet soon. Check your messages tonight with the flight info,” he said before leaving.

Two days and no toilet later, my mom and I climbed up and into the backseat of a helicopter. It was the first time being in a helicopter for both of us. Giddy with excitement, I couldn’t wait to see my home from the air.

But leaving the ground and traveling up into the airspace was less nuanced than I thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong, it was spectacular, but I was surprised to feel like I had already seen my home from the air.

It was then that I realized what I was seeing in real life was what my brain had been conjuring for months.

My mind works in the way of maps, constantly connecting the landscape dots of where I’ve been and where I’m going.

A great deal of my time is devoted to looking at paper maps that line the walls of every room in my house. While hiking, sometimes I’ll sketch the map into my notebook or record a track of my wanderings.

When I moved here, everything was unfamiliar, so I made a point to start closest to home and fan out. Complete every trail within a five mile radius, then a ten mile radius, traveling in concentric circles around Page. No wander was without a goal, as I figured out how yesterday’s hike connected with today’s.

Following canyons until they cliffed out, then getting on the water 1,200 feet below to look up at what I could not complete on foot. Everything that I’ve hiked, swam and paddled for the last year I could see from the sky.

Up in the helicopter, it felt like I was flying on the inside of my mind map.

It was more beautiful than I imagined. Peering through the glass, I smiled down on the place that I call home. Feeling an intense calling to stay, I leaned closer to the window, marking a few points in my mind of places I wanted to walk to after seeing from the sky.

I never would have guessed how much happiness a broken toilet could bring.

Thank you, toilet.

In all seriousness- this was a wonderfully generous offer from my kind landlord. A big thank you to him too. He lived here for five years before going up on a flight, and when he did it was that aha moment of “I’m never going home to Germany. This is home now.”

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