Home Again

My eyes popped open this morning, and as I wiped the sleep from them, I read the alarm clock’s time, 5:39 a.m. I woke with a jolt realizing I was supposed to be at the barn over a half hour ago to help get a backcountry trip packed out before the mid-July heat pounded down from the sky.   I pulled on my pants while brushing my teeth and putting my hair back in a ball cap, and I rushed out the door to the barn.

 The sweet morning smell mixed of grass, dew, and horse greeted my nose, and I heard the morning routine in full swing at the barn,  the squeak of the corral gates, the horses and mules being saddled, my co-workers hitting an easy morning stride, and the smell of pancakes and sausage wafting down from the lodge kitchen causing all senses to be alive. And I smiled. Yes, I was late, which I never like to be, but somehow there was no stress or worry accompanying the mood. All was right at 5:46 a.m. on a beautiful Sunday morning. 

I’ve been home over a month now, and it’s taken a little time to readjust to not having a strict schedule and having a work life outside of an office cubicle, and I don’t miss much about that. I will eternally be grateful for all I learned in that setting, and the friendships formed there, but there ain’t nothing that compares to being home. 

I love these mountain trails I ride that are littered with the prettiest of purple penstemon this year, the clear streams, the love of my folks and family, the crew I call dear friends, the ornery roan horse that I call mine in that corral, the old crew cab truck that is guaranteed to only have one of three music cds stuck on repeat- Garth Brooks, Patsy Cline or Creedence Clearwater Revival- and the feeling of knowing that every day I wake up, I love this life even more. I go to bed too tired to worry about shucking my boots off at the end of the day, my hair is usually a mess, make up is non-existent, my house usually looks and smells like only my 14 year old son lives there, but my dog is happy, and so am I. It feels darn good to be home again…

Change… it happens to everyone. And if you find yourself in a place in your life you know needs it, make it. Do it. Live this one life you have with all that you have. We may be lucky enough to get 80 years on this planet, and spending 65 of them doing something you aren’t passionate about isn’t quality. Life is all about the quality of time you have here, so have faith in all the good Lord made you to be, and make that change. Tackle the hell out of your life, and live and love authentically and true to yourself.  Because change can be the best thing that ever happened to you.

Happy Trails,
Heather 

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