The first time I saw a desert I was 15. My parents took me and my sister and cousin to the American Southwest: Zion National Park, the Grand Canyon and Bryce Canyon. It was so different from the Northeast; the sky was so wide, the colors so strong, the mountain shapes against the sky so harsh. Also, it was really hot. My sister and cousin ran down the Grand Canyon and then back up, while my mother and I panted and sweated and poured water on bandanas and put them over our heads and then didn’t have enough water to drink. Each step was an effort. I can’t say that I…