Home Sweet Home

Never in a million years did I think I would be calling Utah home, but I am. It is so great to be home. I never knew how much I could miss my own bed. I sunk into it the second we arrived home.

The drive was so gnarly. Eli and I took off towards Denver at 7AM on Friday morning. We made it to my friend Heidi’s house at about 4PM. That part of the drive was nothing. I drove most of the way, and Eli slept in the passenger seat.

Driving that old Chevy was something else. It almost felt nostalgic, even though I have never had that experience in my life. It was like I was feeling the nostalgia from someone else. In those few hours blowing down I-70 West, looking out at the yellow plains that didn’t have a bump on them over 2 feet tall,  I was some chick in the 70s, plowing down the road in her shiny and new, baby blue, Chevy truck. It felt so very familiar.

When we hit Denver, we met up with Heidi. We took a gander at the interesting and newly legal substances that Denver had to offer. (Heidi and her boyfriend Chad both work for a dispensary.) The one “treat” I found most interesting was a tiny pecan pie, about the size of a silver dollar, made with butter from a marijuana plant. It was cute, in a way, and made the “drug” seem less threatening.

After we left the dispensary, we met up with Chad, who was just getting off of work trimming plants, to enjoy some sushi. Trin, Heidi’s daughter, joined us as well. Trin may be the only twelve year old I have ever seen eat sushi.

We retreated back to Heidi and Chad’s house after dinner. We sipped coffee and swapped stories and ideas. We talked about politics, schools, the economy, and the climate. It was all very enjoyable and the conversation never seemed forced. I think that is what I have always liked about Heidi and Chad. We always have something to discuss on an intellectual level. We sunk right into deep discussions, almost more heavily than we sunk into bed that night.

Eli and I slept in the next day. We left Denver around noon. Then we had to turn around, because we left my wallet under Heidi’s couch. I felt pretty awful about that, but we turned around, retrieved the missing piece, and set forth our journey across I-80 through Wyoming.

Wyoming was absolutely terrible. The wind was outrageous. The snow was blowing across the road. It looked like snakes made from smoke, slithering across the two lane highway. We hit a patch of black ice outside of Rawlins and nearly sank the truck into a cement bridge. Luckily Eli was driving, and swerved us back into some traction.

After the incident in Rawlins, we didn’t get the truck over 45mph. With 80 or more miles between each town, that drive across Wyoming seemed to never end. I closed my eyes right outside of Evanston, and drifted off to sleep. The hum of the truck, or maybe of Eli, I was too tired to tell the difference, put me right out.

When I opened my eyes we were rolling down Parley’s Canyon. I saw the lights of the city sparkling, and I felt like I was home, because I was.