A year ago, I left for Wyoming, and as the miles between Washington and me continued to grow and grow, I wrote this:
Back in the wild sweet nothings of the interior west. It’s these lands, the ones void of busyness and distractions, where I am stripped of all but everything I’m sure of in this world. These lands own me.
When I packed up my things and tetrised them into the back of my truck, I recognized that I didn’t try that hard at all to find a place in between my leases. I totally neglected doing anything about it, and part of me thinks I did it for a challenge in the midst of the comforts of a 9-to-5 job. I used to tell myself that movement meant growth, a new place meant learning, new perspectives, stories, growth and…a challenge. Things couldn’t be dull if I was always in a new place, I would always have to be on my feet. And now that I’m growing up a little and seeing the benefits of sticking around, I have to find other ways to challenge myself. It’s a nice way to prepare for camping season. The air is delicious this time of year.