(written the night before my move, but just found a moment to post it)
I pack my boxes and busy myself, verbally repeating my excitement for things to come over and over in my mind. I don’t have to make it up. I mean it. A new start is invigorating, and I’m ready. I’ve packed my schedule so full that the move has crept up and blindsided me – a planned assault of sorts. I sit here now in my living room to-be-no-more, and it’s quiet. The Grand Teton mountains sit still, and for a short moment, so does my heart, and parts of it are heavy. This was not the planned turned of events we dreamt about when we moved here over 7 years ago. This was not the outcome we bet on with our toil. Not the master plan we had designed. But alas, the pot of gold held chocolate coins. Tempting and sweet, but in the end left a bit of litter, and a few cavities.
I leave this majestic place with a sense of renewed excitement, one that I was forced to birth in order to move forward. But it is accompanied by a sadness and loss for the things we grew that thrived, as well as the ones that died. I live in a dream of what could be. I dream big. I challenge myself beyond my comfort zones repeatedly, yet I have never met the expectations of my own imagination, and therefore, fall short, no matter the conquest.
I’m not sure how many more moves I have left in me. I would like to find that sweet spot. No need to be fancy – just full. Full of art, inspiration, and friends. For those I’ve met, admired, and loved in Teton Valley – I am blessed to have passed through – and I thank you. Much love.