Last day in Seattle: 1/31/2019
First day in the world: 2/1/2019
I spent the month of February traveling around visiting friends and family:
About a week with my friends in Yakima—playing with the kids, eating delicious home cooking, working on random projects with my good friend. No TV, just quality time.
About a week with my brother and his family in Idaho—playing with my nephews and niece, enjoying the snow (then shoveling TONS of snow), video games and quality time, and moving the last of my worldly possessions into my brother’s shop as I prepare to launch officially on the road.
About a week at my folks’ place in Montana - trying to keep the house warm amid -20F temperatures and snow. Loading firewood and adopting my dad’s routing of retirement (a lot of TV, but also trips to town for lunch with my mom while she is at work). The waterline breaks just as I am preparing to make a trip to visit my friends in Wyoming, leaving my mom and dad without water, but they are prepared with bottled and water from town.
About a week with my friends in Wyoming—playing video games and watching TV with my good friends. A nice balance of mindless entertainment, challenging boardgames, and stimulating conversation that reminds me of college. The old rhythm is there, though the perspectives may have evolved.
A few days in Colorado visiting my cousin and his family—playing with the kids and some more great quality time and conversation. I really value reconnecting with my cousin and I am thrilled to see how his kids are turning out (all of my nieces and nephews are such wonderful children who are glowing testaments to the efforts of their parents, but also examples of the consistent and awesome spirit of their youth).
The last half of March has been spent transporting water and assessing the water situation. Now that the snow has started melting, we’ve been able to trace the water to a leak in the line and after a lot of digging, we revealed crack in the line that will likely mean replacing the line altogether. There’s something therapeutic about the labor—a single task of digging in the rolling foothills with snowcapped mountains beyond; vast blue sky with high clumps of clouds and bright sunshine warming my back and head (along with the effort of the toil); the radio providing a rhythm, but the real soundtrack is the breeze in the pine trees and the birds calling to one another. It’s a familiar feeling from my childhood, but it feels much older than that…a primal resonance that’s more than just memories from my childhood home. It’s a perfect moment in time and I’ll honor it properly by just letting it be.
