Priceless Rd

The first rays of Tuesday’s sunlight pierces through my lenses, and as usual around this time, I’m making my way through the outskirts of town to my least favorite of unpaved roads filled with craters unearthed by different creatures that call this desert landscape their home. Priceless Rd. At least that’s what the faded white wooden sign says in red print more than likely applied in the 1960’s or before. A light breeze blows a few small pieces of paper into the wiper blades of my seemingly prehistoric single cab Dodge Ram, and as I begin to activate them only to figure out I’ll have to grab them when I get off at my spot, I realize I have absolutely no idea what year this car is from, but I assume pre-2000’s. It’s strange the sort of gravitational pull this old sign has on my eyes every morning, I just imagine the people it’s seen, or what the area was like when it was erected. Priceless Rd. Definitely doesn’t fit the bill in the roads current state. I have a pretty good hunch it derives its name from that unparalleled view of the Arizona sunrise. Heavenly. Divine. Truly priceless. For that reason, I make sure I leave my house at least thirty minutes early to have my breakfast watching the light take over the somber grey landscape and bring life to the day. The summer has almost made its way back from its vacation in the Southern Hemisphere, yet the crisp March air of this morning and next will reach scorching temperatures by noon. Besides the cool mornings, it feels as if summer is already here. I guess that’s why I make it a point to appreciate the early morning and all it’s allure. As I step down and circle around to my truck bed preparing to dive face first into these three egg and potato breakfast burritos, I feel the light breeze turn into waves of strong wind, and before I can open my brown paper bag, I hear a loud crash. After a short scan of the environment I confirmed to myself I was the only car and person for miles, and before I could come to the next obvious conclusion, I can see shards of old dry wood with faded white paint soaring through the air under the power of the wind. Years of history dissipated in the blink of an eye. I put my bag of burritos down on the truck bed and decided I’d save what I can and took the short jog over to where the remains of the obsolete signage lay in the soft sand. Upon grabbing what was left of the sign, I see a small black figure in the sand and immediately yank my hand away, leaving splinters in my fingers as I sprang up to my feet. After a long thirty seconds of staring this creature down, I begin to doubt it is a creature at all. The wind blows again and as the sand shifts in response I see the leather binding of a small pocket sized booklet. Oddly the pages were mostly clean as if it had only been put in the dirt this morning but the decomposing cover and torn binding of the booklet said otherwise. The first page read in handwritten capital letters, “EVERYTHING HAS A PRICE,” about fifty or so times. The next pages were completely blank except the second to last page, which went into detail about how the feeling of giving is the most priceless experience in the world and the reason for “this gift” is to provide priceless help in a friends time of need. The last words on the page were, “while what’s below is of value please don’t forget, these moments are...” and after that page a few were ripped out. I pocketed the book to review further, then resumed my mission of putting this sign, now only reading “Price,” back into the ground. The soft earth allowed me to slide the post back into the Earth however not as far as previously, forcing me to place the sign a few feet to the left of its former home. For a second I was certain it was just the varying thickness of the landscape preventing me from placing it in the same area, but as curious as I am, I knew I couldn’t leave without at least trying to see what was under the sand. After a few minutes of digging by hand I found a small bag, about the size for a school age child attending their first grade class, though what I found in it was far from elementary school items. Cash. A seemingly unlimited amount of one hundred dollar bills. No way. Upon returning to my truck in disbelief, I remember to finally dislodge the paper from my windshield. As I’m about to let the paper fly off into the wind I can see a familiar print. “PRICELESS” it read. That’s it. The reverse side of the other page read, “Everything has a price and nothing is cheap. What good is money without time?” I thought of all the time I had wasted and what time I have left. What used to seem like forever was truthfully only forty more years, my body slowly breaking down from 12 hour shifts I had taken to eventually enjoy what I had ironically wasted all along.

Within the end of May, the Priceless Fund, a new non-profit had been kickstarted with an anonymous donation to the tune of $20k to kick things off, motivating other who can give to do the same. The purpose? To give families more priceless moments. To give that newborn baby boy’s father the ability to take time off work to be there for his child alongside child’s mother. To give that underprivileged family a budget to take a vacation to see that national park they’ve been reading about. We spend time regardless, and everything costs something, but it’s how you spend your time, with the people that you love that makes it truly priceless.