Why Not Wyoming?

I took this photo last summer when I went to Wyoming with my niece, Kensie. We went a year ago today, to be exact.

This is one of my favorite spots on earth, Schwabacher's Landing. If you were ever looking for a reason to believe in God, watching the mountains change color while the sun rises behind you, with the reflection in the water .... well it would be hard to walk away from that and not KNOW.

Anyway, the reason I was thinking about this today is that I was making my plane reservations to come home to MD in September. I am trying to lock in a price so that, if all goes according to plan and Parker continues to heal and is back at work in September, I will be coming home.

But while I was on the airline web site, typing in Austin to Baltimore, I accidentally typed in Austin to Jackson, WY.

Then my little brain started clicking and I thought, Well, why not? This is my chance! Why not just head west instead of east? Live my dream! Move to Wyoming! Do it! Now! It's what you've always wanted! Life is short! Carpi Diem!

I thought about all the years I have longed to live in the shadow of my Tetons, the years I have stepped off the plane on vacations and felt that rush, and heard a voice in my head and my heart that says, Ah.... Home! I thought about the simple life that would be required to live there, and I felt cleansed of burdens. I wondered if I would ever tire of looking at those mountains who define the word "majestic", the mountains that rise arrogantly up from the sagebrush flats like no other mountains in the world... the youngest mountain range in North America that refused to evolve in the normal way, shrugging off foothills in favor of a bracing wall of beauty.

With my finger poised over the keyboard, about to correct my mistake, I could feel the clean mountain air filling my lungs, and in my mind I could see the thousands of tiny white lights entwined in the antler arches in downtown Jackson, covered in snow, twinkling like my own personal fairyland.

I heard that noise the heart shaped aspen leaves make in the summer when a breeze flutters through the forest and they clink against each other, branches waving from atop stark white trunks against a Tiffany blue sky. And I remembered the feeling of dipping my toes into the cool water of the Snake River after a long ride across the flats, after watching a young elk try to woo away his lover from an older stag who fought with the maturity of a wise man.

I thought of the drive up Spirit Dance Rd, the switchback mile that curves back and forth up the butte, winding past more sage, more wildflowers, more baby deer hiding in the tall grasses, and I wondered how I would feel, if I worked at the top of that butte, how I would feel every day in the winter when I had to make my way back down to the bottom, praying I wouldn't slip off the edge on the ice and snow.

And then I remembered the one time we went over New Year's, Parker, James, Nancy and I, and we almost got stuck because they had to close down the airport due to a snow storm. They said it would have taken us three more days to get out. They offered to put us up in a hotel and give us a stipend for food while we waited, if we would give up our seats and stay. I would have done it in a heart beat, but Nancy was homesick. She didn't say it, but I could see it in her face. She was afraid of being trapped that far away from home. So we got on the plane and left Neverland behind.

But when I thought about that day, and the frightened look on her face at the idea of being trapped, I also thought about Parker having been so ill, and my Dad having two kinds of cancer, and James being alone at school in MD, and I realized, this isn't the time for me to do that. To live my dream. Not yet. Not if there is a risk of my getting stuck and not being able to get to my family in an emergency.

I remembered how scared I was the night Parker first went into the hospital in Austin, when I had to wait until the next morning to get to him. A mere 12 hours, as opposed to three days. And I knew I wasn't ready to make that move. It isn't time just yet. The fear of not being able to reach a critically ill loved is too fresh, too near to my heart. In fact, it still invades my dreams when I sleep.

So I did the responsible thing and I hit the key that changed the direction of my flight, to take me east, back home to Maryland, knowing that Wyoming isn't going anywhere, and at another time, my day will come.