it takes two yoga classes to let go of my expectations. I come to my yoga mat to pray, to let go. two to make me breathe and remember who I am and where I am. to remind myself that I am actually right where I need to be. when did I stop being content? it takes a couple two hour drives with country folk music to remember who I am. to remember where my roots are.

I’ve been here long enough that who I am had become gray. I forget my strength. the power that make makes me. god damn it. ski. fly free. spread your winds. rip. soar. stop being anxious. time will come. let it happen. and if it doesn’t there’s nothing you could have done to make it otherwise. if it does, cross that bridge when you get there.

four months is a long time. but it’s not a life time. I still have more than a month to go. I am counting days now. when I yearn, I can keep reminding myself that as much as I have to give up now for this and my family. for the sake of my moms health, six months on the other side, feels just as long.

when I crest over Norris hill to Madison valley, I well up with tears. when I look down over the hill from virgnia city, I am breathless. when I cross the continental divide, I might just cry a little. drive jack creek again.

there isn’t a more amazing scenery anywhere else in the world. Madison Valley. no such freedom, no such grit. no such spirit.

it’s these dreams that keep me sane.