I drove to Pavillion, Wyoming. The sun was sinking as I drove past green fields and hanging spiderweb telephone lines. I went to see my aunt and uncle who live outside of town on a lot of land. My cell phone doesn't work out there, which is a great excuse to explore and run around outside and never check e-mails.
I turned 22 while I was there. I woke up in the morning and took a long walk through the alfalfa fields with the pups to think about the past year of my life. I saw the most magical moment:
I went out on the desert and went rock hunting. My aunt taught me how to make jewelry and then cooked me salmon for dinner. I helped them irrigate their alfalfa fields. It was a simple celebration of another year spent. And that's really all I wanted. I've had a rough couple weeks learning some serious life lessons on love and decision making and passion and business. It's added a couple years of wisdom onto my life, I think. Because there's something about serious things that push additional creases around your eyes, and you see a little more clearly because you have to. A little more wisdom settles into your bones.
To find a solution, we climbed to the top of a mountain to see the world where you could almost touch the clouds they seemed so close. We talked about life and the weight of heavy things. And then we scrambled down the hills to avoid an incoming storm.
Now I'm in a small Wyoming town living in a van with one of my best friends. It's only about 100 sq ft of space, but most of that is full of two beds, seats, tables, closet space, a kitchen and a small bathroom. It leaves about 8 ft of personal space if we are lucky, but I don't mind. It's been really nice to see familiar faces and know people and where to drive. I miss Bozeman a bit, but this space feels like home, too.
It's been a month for the books, I'll tell you, but things will look up.
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