about utah: before i was francis' mother, before i was christopher's wife, before my phone rang with an invitation to a drink or a cup of coffee or something, i was twenty six and longing. there were years and years that passed me by when there were certain things i wanted for my life -- things that seemed to come so easily, nearly thoughtlessly, to others -- things that felt like, deeply as i wanted them, they might not be for me. that spring, angie and i flew west to visit her sweet parents and hike for a week, each of us tenderly holding onto dreams for things hoped for, but not yet seen.
and those mountains, how they stirred something thrumming in my bones. how i felt so tangibly the veil between heaven and earth, like i might reach out and run my fingers over it. how near i felt to all the things that might be mine. how i met understanding that, come what may or may not, i can do hard things and i can choose to be happy, as surely as i can move my body upward over a mountain, one foot in front of another.
when i returned last summer, chris and i were newlyweds and francis was a wish we were making. and when i returned this summer, he was in my arms, a living prayer. angie once again calls those mountains home, with her own trio of dreams making beautiful messes at her feet. and i brim with conviction that good things bloom there. wildflowers, hope, etc.