Tonight, standing outside, in the perfect silence, stars above, just me alone in the light breeze, I had a thought. I had a thought about my life.
It wasn't profound, and it wasn't an epiphany, it was just a thought. ...
Last week I took a road trip "back home" to Wyoming to visit some friends. The house where I grew up backed up to a mountain across the high desert.
As a teenager we used to ride motorcycles all over that mountain and the surrounding desert. It's a rugged but beautiful place. It takes some
getting used to, but it's not like anything most people have seen. The mountain is not like the jagged peaks of the Wind Rivers or the Rockies in
Colorado, but it's a mountain all the same.
After an evening of friendship and dinner I returned to my hotel, I was beat. The next morning I had nearly the whole day to myself. Nearly 45 years
later I headed back up that mountain...to see if I could go find the wild horse herds which roam up there. (I wanted to take some pictures of them
for my wife who's never seen one...let alone herds of them). I didn't see any horses, but I was close, and they're definitely still there. I took a
few pictures of fresh droppings...I was close. No matter, it was still a beautiful drive, even if the road up the mountain was a 32% grade in
I think I drove for 65-70 miles or so on top of the mountain plateau. The roads were my old stomping grounds, still familiar to me, so distant and
remote. The day wore on and I took many beautiful pictures of the vast expanses. The sunlight was fading. I'd have to come down the mountain at
night as I'd done so many hundreds of times before.
The top of the mountain is flat, flat for a hundred miles or so (depending on the direction), but the way down is steep! It's not a gradual entry
down either; you go from flat to looking like you're driving off a cliff down onto the first switchback. Right there, at the top, there's a lookout
point, a point where you could take your girlfriend and look at the twinkling lights of the city below. It's nearly straight down.
I stopped at the overlook, it was a beautiful evening, the dry air after sunset casting visual illusions of the lights below. It's quite magical
I thought to myself, "this is such a wonderful place, I wonder why the rest of the World can't see it like I can" It's a whole other life, one hard
to understand and accept until you've lived in it, grown up in it. I was blessed with a little rain that night, and if there's one thing, IF, on this
planet which smells better than rain in the desert, then I don't know what it is!!! A little part of me went to heaven right there in that moment,
staring down at the lights of town below.
The next day I needed to leave to drive home, a six hour drive. Nearly three quarters of the way home I was thinking to myself how we should move
back to Wyoming. There's just so much to do there. I'd be outside every single day (I thought to myself). We should do it! I think I'm going to
actively talk to the wife about this (we'd talked about it before, and agreed actually). It was a long ride home.
Today was my wife's birthday. We had a great day. To me she is the most important thing in the world to me, and I tried to make her feel exactly
that all day (I always try to do that, but today even more). So we had a really nice dinner and she wanted to hit the sack early after a nice foot
rub. She'd worked hard today, and was tired.
So there I stood, outside tonight under the stars, thinking to myself "why would I ever want to be somewhere else, than right here?" Miles from
anything, no sound, just perfect quiet, the cows milling around in the pastures.
Yeah, I stood atop that mountain, but you know what? Sometimes you don't have to be standing on top of a mountain to see the light(s).
edit on 7/22/2017 by Flyingclaydisk because: (no reason given)