Goodbye

I have always been inordinately attached to places. Places provide the context, not the merely the background, to our lives. Places give us beauty. They make us feel comfortable or uneasy, calm or anxious. They are the spaces where our memories are created and our every day beautiful lives are lived. By our use of them, they are transformed into more than the sum of their parts. Because of this, they never fail to deeply imprint themselves on my heart. I am becoming uncomfortably familiar with the feeling of needing a change and yet dreading it. In a perfect world, I would have it all- I could move my family and closest friends out to Utah, grow Green River just a bit, and stay. But, in case you missed it, the world isn't perfect.

This will be my last blog post from Utah. I don't know exactly what the future holds yet (to get that question out of the way). So if I see you in the coming weeks in Indiana, please remember that I'm probably experiencing some culture shock, heartache, and I won't be able to answer a lot of questions.

I could never fully express how much my time here has meant to me. Here, I have seen and experienced and belonged to a world so different from what I have ever known. Felt the wind of the west and watched the tumbleweeds roll. Climbed mountains and buttes and hiked many miles through the desert. Learned about place names and public lands. Called it all Home.

I've built a solar irrigation system from scratch and perfected my PB&J skills. I've successfully written grants, grown plants from desert soil, and won a few hearts- big and little. I've raised beautiful chickens and resurfaced floors and put countless little pieces of myself into this place. It will go one just fine without me or it won't, and neither of those feel great.

I know that some day these two years will feel like just a blip, but I want to imagine that some part of my heart will always be here, still sitting on the river and shimmying through canyons.

I know that it's time. I'm just not ready to believe it.