First major melt down of the crying kind (not swearing) since BC started working in Moab and it's over camping. Of all the things going on this is the one I break on. I call him on the job crying about not getting to go to the desert this weekend.
My heart is already there.
Now all I have to do is find a way to the get the rest of me to follow.
I hesitate to say we go every year for Mother's Day, it really has nothing to do with it. And its hard to explain what it is about being out there that is important to me.
All I know is I need it to be okay.
So I can sit in the bigness of the desert and not think about anything at all. So I can run in the morning, hungover and half awake with only the antelope to question me. So I can have whiskey with breakfast and a 10 am beer, sleep em off in the heat of the tent. Wake up and hike the afternoon away.
Go from sweatshirts to swimsuits, be half dressed, if dressed at all. Hot springs, snakes, the call of morning larks, 'leave-r-right' rocks, blue lizards, and whole valleys of sage. Return for dinner with more whiskey & more beer. Sit by the fire, watch the stars, and sleep in heaven.
Now all I have to do is find a way to the get the rest of me to follow.
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