the land of w's.

This place always makes me missing. I took a little trip up to the mountain house my family has outside of Lander. It's right in the middle of fields of wildflowers, limestone cliffs, aspen groves and a baby river.

Grief is a process. Cliche- yes, I know. But there isn't a time limit on how/when time will feel like it's different but it's okay. If nothing else, my short time here in this place has assured me that the wind is at my back, I have a crowd on the sidelines, and I'm headed in the right direction. So that great overwhelming sense of missing I feel? It's okay. I let it come and sit it down, know that it's valid and honest, and then let it go. The mountain house is so, so special to me for a lot of reasons. And honestly, it's a place I crave when I am in the deep midst of grieving and missing. So I was so excited to share it with two ladies- Paige and Kara. These two keep me laughing so hard my stomach hurts. We ate good food, played music, did a puzzle, explored, took photos, laughed, watched the constellation move through the night and had a really, really good time relaxing.

I think next time I go up to the mountain house will be a solo trip. I want to listen to some good jazz music, dance with my puppy, run as fast as I can through the wildflower fields and feel the roots of the aspens underneath my back. Life is so, so fast. I want to take all the pictures I can to capture how beautiful I think it is.

it comes and goes in waves.

Someone asked me tonight where I was from: someone sitting next to me leaned over and said, "she's transient."

I like belonging to nowhere, to no one. Maybe one day I will, but for right now, I realize that I have missed being a part of something inconsistent and wild.