I have the overwhelming urge to cry over a boy. I have never done that. I have never cried over a boy I liked. Even as a teenager. I usually keep myself pretty guarded from rejection. I have extremely low self esteem... I know I'm not pretty so I usually don't out myself out there which is why I have had a total of one boy friend ever. I liked you so much and I was convinced for once that a boy no man actually liked me back. You told me I was cute, and sexy and that my brain was sexy too. You would tell me to sleep that we could share more of the world together in the morning. I mailed you a fucking package. I put a lot of thought into that shit. I was constantly glued to my phone, making sure it was always charged just in case you texted me. I stayed up late until you got off work. Maybe I shared too much with you too fast? Maybe I was too honest? I tend to do this thing where I just share my feelings and say whatever is on my mind. I told you how much I liked you so you responded by not responding at all.

The continuing saga of that boy.

Looks like we are back to not talking. I sent the last text three days ago. I want to text him but I am being stubborn and waiting until he responds.

I have so much self doubt and so many self confidence issues but I just keep telling myself that I am fucking awesome and if he can't realize that than he is missing out and not the other way around. I keep trying to tell myself that any guy would be lucky to have me but I know deep down that's not true.

Limbo, twenty three, a boy.

I feel like I am in limbo. I am constantly in this like awkward transition. I am changing a lot from the girl I used to be. I am more bold in some aspects and yet still shy and awkward in my most daily interactions. A lot has happened; a lot is happening. I really want to write about my job ( I want to be able to look back on these memories of my first year in teaching) but every time I try to sit down and put it into words nothing comes out. I am not sure if I am exactly where I am supposed to be or if I am still missing something major.

I am the only one in my core friend group who is not living with there parents in the same suburban area we all grew up in together. This makes it hard to relate to them on some level and to really discuss if what I am feeling is normal for twenty three. There's also this boy. The boy I wrote somewhat scathingly about in my last post. Not long after that post things got somewhat  back to normal between the two of us. I like him a lot. Maybe too much. I can't tell if he still likes me (in that way). Sometimes I wonder if I truly like him or if I like the attention he gives me, Let's be honest I am not a girl who gets a lot of attention from guys (this is rare!) so it does feel nice to have someone who goes out of their way to text you, or send you a cute selfie, or flirt with you, or call you babe, and tell you that "he's sweet on you". However; these things have been happening less and less recently. I used to stay up until after midnight when his shift ended just so I could text him good night. We'd sometimes stay up texting until 5 am when I had to go to work, Now we still text everyday but it's not the same, I wonder if he is bored of me,  I know that a few months before we met he got out of a pretty serious relationship and isn't looking to jump into anything right away. I mean he has made it clear to me that for now we are just friends and I have made it clear to him that I like him and whatever happens with that is up to him, I even mailed him a handwritten letter, a drawing, a mix tape on a flash drive, and a headphone splitter (he is a musician and has talked about coming to visit me soon from BoCo so I said we could use it to listen to music together, I painted a C on one side for him and an A on the other for me). He liked the gift a lot... I am such a dork, He even showed it off to his roommate but it's been a bit now and no concrete plans of us actually meeting have been in the works, I know money is tight for him too and that neither of us have a car but I really just want to meet him, hold his hand, hug him, listen to music together and watch Netflix. I also worry that he wont like me. I mean he knows what I look like but I worry that he wont think I am pretty in person.  I worry too much this I know but still it makes me smile just to know he thinks about me sometimes. We have good conversations and I have fun flirting with him so in the end I just try to leave it at that and not over think shit so much, Fingers crossed that it all works out.

I don't quite know how to start this post. It has been awhile since I have found the time to write down my thoughts and I have so much to say that I don't know where to begin.

I am now 4 months in to my first year of teaching and I am surviving (and hell I'll even dare say sometimes thriving at what I do). I'll write more on this later (too much to say here... I need to organize my thoughts).

 I am 3 months in to living on my own for the first time (paying rent without my parents help, buying my own groceries and doing my own laundry). There are times when I really like living on my own and then there are the nights that seem too long with no one to talk to and the loneliness can be overwhelming. My best friends live an hour away (as does my family) which is why I have spent almost every weekend at my parents.

I live in a "hip, young neighborhood" and have yet to connect with anyone besides my coworkers. How do people my age make friends now days? Tinder. I downloaded Tinder, uploaded my best photos, wrote a little about me, swipped and waited. And then an adorable musician asked me, "what foods do you enjoy cooking?" I responded, we chatted, I flirted, he enticed me with his vast music knowledge, we watched movies over Netflix together, he flirted even more, we exchanged selfies, and for the first time in years in was really really excited about a guy. Then one night when we were flirting he asked me if I was a virgin. I replied truthfully that yes I was. He got freaked out. Said oh I still like you but thats too much pressure. I don't know how thats any pressure. I wasn't asking him for sex. All I was asking for was conversation (which flowed easy for us) and yes the flirting was nice. He made me feel special. For once I felt attractive and young. Now we send an occasional text to each other but nothing more. No more flirtatious responses, no more music chats and no more Netflix movie nights over the phone. It makes me feel like shit. Like I don't matter... Like our previous conversation and connection doesn't matter. I know it was only like 2 months but it can still sting. The after effects are lingering. I hate being reduced to a sexual act. Not having anyone to talk to makes the hard stuff at work even harder. I don't know what twenty three is supposed to feel like... Maybe this is it.

I write so that in the future I may remember my past.

I rarely ever log on to here any more. In fact, I rarely ever write just for myself. I think there is something important about writing and preserving memories--little bits and pieces of your life that you can look back at years later. Knowing who you are at the very core--bruises and all-- and where you have come from is I believe essential when looking to be fulfilled in any meaningful way. Awhile ago, I thought about just abandoning this blog but today as I logged on for the first time in months, I felt proud staring at my blog archive going back to 2009, a total of 249 posts--starting from my senior year in high school all the way through my college career.

Another way that I like to keep track of time and memories are these Polaroid post cards. I write a letter to myself on my birthday each year and than the next year I open and read it. On the outside I include quotes, songs, poems and my most recent FaceBook status. On this inside I write a short letter which usually includes; musings, my goals/dreams and any personal stuff I want to look back on (sometimes these are embarassing). I have these postcards laid out all the way until 2033 when I will turn 41 years old. Below are photos of the card I wrote myself last year for this year as well as the new card I wrote which I will open in a year. I also, found $20 that I had left for myself when I sealed the card last year--happy birthday to me!

Written on March 26, 2013

To be opened on Match 26, 2014

Age 22-23 years old

Songs/ Poems:

22- Taylor Swift

Let that be enough- Switchfoot

This year and how to survive- Chad Sugg

Most  recent FaceBook status:

"On lifes constant limitations- Calvin: You know Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocketship under pants don't help."

"Let the beauty of what you love, be what you do; there are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the Earth." -Rumi

"Hello Selfie! 

Wow today you turned 22 but, as you are reading this you are 23. This past year ha been one of the toughest in my life. When you read this I hope that school hasn't been making you feel so suffocated. I hope that student teaching is good! I hope life is good! Do you still see M** the Starbucks cutie? Do you work at TCBY? I hope you always remember the pain you felt at 21 so that you never feel that way again. You are beautiful! You are smart! You are strong! You are enough! Are you spending time wih God? Because, he is truly the only one who can help you in life. I hope at 23 you still want to do the Peace Corps or teach in Africa! Stay as young and idealistic at heart for as long as possible. 

Love, 

22 year old you!

XoXo

The sacred act of sharing meals

It wasn't until I had spent a few years living away from home--five hours away  to be exact--at college that my belief in the sacred act of sharing meals became foundational to many of my core beliefs.

I grew up in what I thought was a normal suburban household. My family ate dinner together practically every single night. The table was filled with laughter, stories from everyones day, political debates and my mother reminding us to appreciate her food because there were children starving elsewhere. I thought that every family had the luxuary of eating meals together and of the quality time spent around the table. It wasn't until I was in high school and college that I began to realize what a rarity this actually was. Many of my friends had parents who worked late, or siblings whos busy after school schedules conflicted with one another so they were left eating at staggered times.

My first year living in the dorms--I absolutly dreaded the days when my friends were busy, when we had conflicting class schedules and when I was forced to eat alone. However; I charished the moments and there were many of them when I would have 10-15 friends crammed at a table once again sharing laughs and stories. At this time in my life these close friends became a family. I remember sitting over dinner--in the "Mav Pav" as we called it at the time--when I broke down and told my friends that I had found out earlier that afternoon that my Grandfather had passed away. They ssupported me with encouraging Bible verses as I chowed down on the greasy and delicious pizza.

Since moving back to Denver I have witnessed how communal meals build relationshps. Ironically, I have been provided a free meal fom my homeless friend Marcus. We have sat outside and shared PBJs while we discussed eduation, God, our pasts and our futures. This was one of my first interactions with Marcus--a man I now consider a friend. I once bought a meal for a student who left his wallet at home. We ate together and I realized then how much two complete strangers could have in common. Altough I haven't run into him again this was a moment that positivly touched and changed me. I quit believing the old addage "stranger danger"--well at least not in all circumstances. Another time I was asked out to lunch by a homeless man who invited me to eat the free food at Saint Francis with him. We sat on the Church steps and I vivdly remember him telling me that someday I would be a great teacher who would change the world. His words touched me. I was involved in a sacred moment through the act of meal sharing with a man I unfortunately never saw again.

I have shared frozen yogurt with a street performer on 16th street mall, chowed on Thi food with a high school friend I hadn't seen in years, and built relationships around the philosophy that there is something sacred and Christ-like about sharing meals.

A short & sweet magnetic poem I wrote awhile ago.

Welcome to 2014

Spent last night, ringing in the new year and celebrating Watch Night (despite doctors recommendations that I stay home because of pneumonia) with the band 'The Oh Hello's'. Sang Christmas music to beating banjos, violins, accordions, drums and harmony's that sang praise to Gods glory with two of my oldest and best friends.

"This is a brief life but in its brevity it offers us some splendid moments, some meaningful adventures." -Rudyard Kipling

Unfortunately, during my winter break I have been sick; just hoping to heal before student teaching begins in less than a week (I am really excited/ nervous!!).

I am very excited to begin this year and the next chapter of my life!!!

I watched this video a few weeks ago, and along with some research I have decided that I am very interested in Quakerism and becoming a Quaker Friend. I feel a spiritual calling and kinship into the Quaker faith community from God.

I have no new years resolutions; I only hope to be happy, healthy & faithful to follow God down whatever spiritual path he leads me. Blessings be to all!

Philippians 3:13-14 
No, dear brothers and sisters, I am still not all I should be, but I am focusing all my energies on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us up to heaven. (NLT)

Long overdue update!

It seems crazy to me that I haven't updated this blog since May. I'm sorry to anyone out there who may actually follow this. Life has been a whirlwind. I guess I'll starts where my blog last left off. The semester ended and summer began.

This summer was by far the best summer in  my short life.

In June my brother got married and I was a bridesmaid in the wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony. This is a memory that I will cherish forever. I felt so blessed to be a part of a union between two people so in love. Too many details and stories to recount here.

At the beginning of the summer I was "working" two jobs, 70+ hour weeks and loving every minute of it. My first job was the same one I have held at the FROYO shop for two years now--I worked 4 nights a week. My second job (M-F) was through the Center for Urban Education & Denver Public Schools--a 9th grade college readiness camp. I cannot say enough about the impact this camp had on me. I worked with two mentors and we had 14--amazing and bright beyond their years--kiddos in our group. We went to 3 college classes, including a 3D printing CAD class where I saw the future of engineering & manufacturing. I also saw several of my students grow exponentially through the professors encouragement. If they so choose, I know they will be our future engineers & architects. In the English class  I worked along side my professors to give the students the opportunity to tell their stories to the world. One brave students' story brought me to tears. I cannot hear Bob Marley's 3 little birds without thinking of her--I wish her the brightest of futures. The kiddos toured colleges like CSU & learned to communicate and advocate for themselves in a public speaking class. I feel so blessed to have been a part of the camp and to have met these individuals.

The camp ended early July, so I picked up more shifts at my other job, hung out with friends and began to study for the PRAXIS test. A test that you have to pass in order to get your teaching license. All of this was fairly relaxing and a nice break from my previously stressful semester.

Then, in August I traveled with my parents and my Grandma to Italy, Spain & France for the most amazing (well, mostly... the places were breathtaking but, my parents fought some) 12 days. Again, too mych to recount day by day here. Highlights included: The Colosseum, The Vatican, Trevi Fountain, FC Barcelona futbol stadium tour among others!

The week before school started back up I took my PRAXIS exam and passed :). For someone who has  a learning disability and has always struggled with test taking, this boosted my confidence in my subject area and my ability to teach it to students.

School started back up and unfortunately with that came the stress. On Monday I submitted my student teaching application... heres to hoping for the best outcomes! The future is bright and God has continually blessed me & challenged me.

I'm sorry there is not much detail writing here for most of my events. I feel that they deserve much more time and attention than I am capable of giving them right now but, that in no way indicates that those events were any less impactful or life changing for me this summer.

Peace!

Dear me, Please listen to this message in year!

Yesterday I cried to my Mom

I admitted to her that I have been deeply deeply depressed for a few months now. I told her that this has been the worst few months of my life. I am having a life crisis, a melt down of epic proportions. I am SICK TO DEATH of school right now I wish spring break was a few months longer. I have never in my life been so anxious, depressed and stressed out as these last few months have made me. My best friend in my major switched majors because she hated feeling this stressed all the time. I have very few friends, I hang out with my Mom and her friends more than anyone else. I have no one to talk to and I have a shit ton to do before tomorrow so back to the grind. I am breathing deep and I know all will be okay. Please pray for me (if anyone reads this which I doubt). "I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me..."

EVERYTHING MAKES ME MISS YOU!

Happy St. Patrick's day to my Irish father Noel! Miss you and love you! Send me the luck of the Irish will ya? forever in my heart and on my mind.

I wonder if I missed out

Last night, I stumbled upon the "Colorado Mesa University Confessions Page" &  a "CMU Missed connections page". Reading through countless logs it made me wonder if I have missed out on the "college experience." There were post about parties (the kind you think of when you think of college), and more disturbing party/ sex stories that my virgin eyes didn't need to read. Although I am sure some of these logs are made up, some are also real. People detailed countless drunken nights, awkward dates and missed connections. I honestly couldn't relate to ANY of the posts on the "Confessions Page." At first it made me wonder if Mesa had changed that much since I left (become more of a party school) or if I was just nieve and had missed out on a right of passage. While I will NEVER be the girl that has random meaningless sex, and gets drunk every weekend, I see nothing wrong with going to an occasional party. You could say I was a part of the "Jesus group" at Mesa (which I am proud of) & the "housing group" which meant parties I went to included board games, movies and snacks. I guess maybe I am longing for someone i'll never be. I definitely would not change my friends at Mesa or anything I did while I was there because it was the BEST but sometimes you gaze at the other side and wonder is the grass is greener? I'm turning 22 this month and have never been drunk, never been out clubbing, partying or to a bar (for the specific purpose of just drinking and meeting guys). I don't like makeup or short dresses. I know I am a cool person, so why do I feel the need to prove my self through these ridiculous acts that other girls put on? I don't know.... I feel like I'm missing out and i'll be the English teacher forever alone with my books. Rant done.

I am tired

I am tired of spending 20 hours on a single lesson plan only to get a "B"
I am tired of professors telling me,
 "statistics show that close to 50% of fresh college grads with teaching degrees quit the profession within the first five years."
"You'll be in school from 7-5 and up grading papers and writing lesson plans until 3 am."
"If your lucky enough to get hired right out of college, it will most likely be the day before school begins so you will have no prep time"
"You'll have days where you just want to cry but can't and years where your flat out not the best teacher you could be"
"You have to worry about standards, administrators, parents, 30 year knowledge, CEC classes and most importantly students lives"
And now to sleep. :)

Whimsical

I leave art work made from scraps of food in coffee shops; I pretend my shadow is a person following me and create elaborate stories in my head of a great escape, involving witty remarks, I draw stars that exist only in my mind and write the endings to stories that have yet to begin; I believe the depth of one's life is measured by the number of times they make another person smile. Smile. Gapped tooth, big lips, coffee stained smile. People are like constellations; we are each our own bright star and when we connect with others we make pictures in the sky. I create silly faces from scraps of food at coffee shops. Smile please.

Well, sometimes I feel crazy.

I remember the semester before I transferred sitting on the floor of my room in Monument hall crying on the phone to my brother telling him between gasps of breath that all I really wanted was to do something meaningful, to do something that made a difference. I told him I didn't want a normal life, a boring life. I wanted to change the world for the better when I graduated. I asked him if I was crazy? He said no.

Shaker

Is it really so ridiculous to think that I might just be able to change the world.

Obligatory new years post

I know it's cliche but here goes New Years Resolutions or whatever one wants to call it...

1. Get Good Grades! (I have been doing pretty good so far but know that I can be doing better!) :)
2. Stay Positive! (It's really as simple as that)
3. Give EVERYTHING To God!
4. Get Into "Shape"! (I know it's cliche but it's also something that I want for myself.)
5. Give More!
6. Get More Involved! 
7. Spend More Quite Time! (Away from books, electronics, Facebook, music etc.)

tbc....

I never dreamed the sea so deep, The earth so dark; so long my sleep, I have become another child. I wake to see the world go wild. 
- Allen Ginsberg

Grasp the simplicity of reality

Our lives are mostly small with a few peaks, but even the peaks seem smaller as the years go by. God's way is to lead us into faithfulness in little. It’s the steady culmination of these faithful, small deeds that makes our lives dynamic and great. It comes down to loving the people right in front of you, serving when no one is looking, remaining loyal to the truth and maintaining a perpetual dialogue with God through His word. Really, all the hype is just that, hype.... But once you grasp the simplicity of reality, it's glorious.- Misty Edwards

Scenes from a Greyhound Bus - A Snovel written for my Nature Writing class

“Were happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time; it’s miserable it’s magical oh yeah”     -Taylor Swift, Twenty-Two

            With $60 in her pocket she pays the man $38 at the ticket booth. She waits patiently while her ticket prints out, grabs it and sits near the bus gate until her departure is called. This is a place she knows well having traveled across Colorado by bus throughout her late teens and twenties. She recalls a ride from Grand Junction where an obnoxious drunk on the back of the bus caused the driver to stop- all she wanted was to see her dad one last time; or when the tire popped and the passengers were left waiting, as fluffy white flakes drifted lazily from the sky, for over 3 hours until a new bus arrived. This type of travel can be exhausting, but there is nothing like the scenic beauty from a bus window, the uncertainty because your fate is in another man’s hands and the awkward closeness of sharing such magical mountain moments with complete strangers.  Today she has somewhere to be but riding the bus brings a solace to her. It’s where all the major moments in her life have occurred.

“Bus 302 heading west towards California” is announced over the intercom but it sounds more like “Buhhh threeohto heed wef to calif”. Luckily, she is fluent in intercom voice so she heads to the line to check bags and get on.

She stands up situating her backpack--it is the only item she brought. A carry on, filled with a camera, a notebook, pens, colored pencils, a Bible, head phones, sparkly white flats, and of course her veil neatly folded  and pressed. Her dress and other necessities were taken to the Church in Glenwood Springs ahead of time. She takes the window seat front row. She has identified what type of people sit in the back, the middle, the front. She feels safest behind the bus driver. The bus pulls slowly out of the gate, a loud thud and onto the busy downtown scene. They head south on 19^th street toward Curtis as the buzz of the city lulls several passengers to sleep.

The driver announces, “Welcome aboard folks! Looks like we have lovely weather today should be an easy pass through the mountains. Our first drop off point will be in Idaho Springs, then Frisco and then a 5 minute stretch break in Vail. There is no alcohol allowed on the buses you can have your Colorado Kool-Aid aka Coors Beer when you depart at your stop. Settle in and be kind to one another.”

            She stares out the window as they pass the sky rises eventually hopping onto Interstate 70 as the passengers leave fleeting memories of Green Mountain and pass the road signs for Red Rocks Amphitheater- “a geological phenomenon [it is] the only naturally-occurring, acoustically perfect amphitheater in the world.” She remembers in vivid detail the first concert she ever saw there. She was in 8^th grade and her dad took her to see Los Lonely Boys. Her memories consist of the little things, like the smell of Coors Beer on her dad’s breath, the low whistle of the amp situated in front of them or the way the moon light reflected off of the rocks giving the whole place an auburn aura. The skyline behind her disappears. It is 7am and the sun is playing peek-a-boo behind the mountains as the bus heads in that direction.  She puts her head phones on to avoid the distractions of the heavy breathers and soft humming of the bus engine.

The sun is now blaring into her line of vision causing her to shade her eyes with one hand. About an hour and a half into the trip the bus pulls over at a small park in Idaho springs, Colorado. This town is known for its historic mining as a part of the Pikes Peak Gold Rush in 1859. She recalls coming here every summer of her childhood. Her family loved to raft on the Clear Creek River. She was 12 the first time she hopped in a raft and paddled on what seemed like monstrous waves, 10 to 20 times her size. In reality it was only class 1 rapids merely ripples in the water. None the less, when she fell into the freezing water that first day her mother about had a heart attack. That day you would have seen her mother waling her oar in the air, arms flapping wildly, almost knocking the guide off the boat yelling, “My baby, my baby! Help!” She remembered the basic training; lie on your back and float down stream with the water. She could feel the scares amounts of fish pooling beneath the weight of her heavy body. A rough hand clutched her wrist, it was her fathers, and she knew she would be okay. They went back three times that summer and every summer thereafter until she moved away. It is a place filled with fond memories of water fights, family bonding and growing up like a fish in the water. She craved the rushing swells over the boulder rocks, the drone of paddling in motion eventually working her way up to class 4-5 rapids. She could feel her fathers hand clutching her wrist as the bus began to move. It was comforting—the thought that he was there with her.

The bus pulled back onto the interstate and to the right she saw her favorite Beau Jo’s Pizza- the place her family always went to wind down from an intense sun soaked, water filled day. On this day the river is low and the rocks protrude from the creek bed. Rafting season is over and low levels make it impossible to ride despite the still warm weather.

Off to the left in the distance she can see Mount Evans which is covered in snow this time of year. It was the first 14er she ever climbed. Her memory of the actual hike, the grueling amount of time it took her to shuffle up the mountain that looked over the vast expanse of Colorado, was clouded. She remembers that day clearly because it was on the bus ride home when she received a call from her mother.

“Honey, I don’t want to worry you too much but your father is in the hospital. He’s pretty sick and I think you need to come visit him when you get back to Denver from your hike. We love you; call us when you get in.” Click and the message went dead.

It was the first time her dad got really sick. After that the calls became regular and the shock wore off.

The bus continues to weave up the I-70 Mountain transient eventually passing the continental divide traveling through the stretch of the Eisenhower tunnel. The tunnel was completed in 1979 allowing easier travel through the mountains- it is the longest mountain tunnel in the US and the highest on the Interstate Highway system. She remembers as a kid trying to hold her breath throughout the entire length of the tunnel as the orange florescent light blinded her vision, making the tunnel seem longer and more enclosed.

She aimlessly stares out the window noticing how the mountain pine beetle was slowly killing the expanse of the once beautiful, lush green Colorado trees. It saddens her to see the trees turning a burnt rust color, the branches cracked, and its life gone. She unconsciously plays with the engagement ring on her finger slowly realizing that in just a few short hours her life will begin anew.

The bus nears Vail—a high class ski town with houses in the millions of dollars—the last drop off point before her final destination. As a young child her parents took her skiing on the Vail bunny hill ski slope. It only took her one run to know it wasn’t for her but she watched in awe as herds of skiers danced, swiveling, and turning leaving tracks in the snow racing towards the bottom of the hill. Her dad was one of them—a weekend winter warrior whose grace grazed the powder almost every weekend during ski season. This is also the place where she first met her fiancé. “Fiancé” she said it aloud and giggled anxiously catching weird looks from her bus neighbors.

Her heart begins to flutter with excitement. Just like the first time they met re-creating it almost exactly. The bus pulls off at the local ‘Cum and go’. An emphatic thud and she knows that in a few moments her soon to be husband will enter the bus. She can’t ditch the huge smile spreading across her face.

It was only six months before when she was taking the same route via bus from her father’s funeral back to school in Grand Junction at Colorado Mesa University. She had slept through the Vail stop that time and when she woke up the bus was just outside of Glenwood Springs. A soft face man was sitting next to her, quietly reading his Bible. He had shoulder length curly ginger hair and eyes that made you feel like he was in on a secret that you just needed to know. He turned to her and silently handed her a Kleenex, She hadn’t even realized that she had been crying during her nap but her face was moist with sweet salty tears. She felt embarrassed. “Who cries on a public bus?” She thought aloud. He asked her in a whisper almost inaudible, “could I pray for you?” They closed their eyes and bowed there head. She prayed that God could give her peace about her father’s passing. She missed him more with each snowflake that drifted lazily from the swirly gray sky. They were in their own world on that bus. She snapped her head up becoming more allusive from her thoughts and there he was an adorable smile plastered on his face, his ginger hair flopping wildly beneath his knitted winter hat. He sat down silently and held her hand playing with the ring on her finger.

She had heard it all recently, “you’re too young”, “you met him on a bus six months ago, how well do you really know him?” and “marriage is for life!” As if I didn't know these things. In this moment, sitting on the bus staring as she watched the Vail ski bums rotating up and down the pure white slopes she knew that this was the right decision. She only wished that her father could be there. There would be no father daughter dance and no one to ‘officially’ give her away. The reflection in the bus window looked like that of a broken little girl not a woman so in love that she was getting married in just a few hours. She felt the warmth of her fathers hand on her wrist again and smiled looking longingly up at the sky. She squeezed her soon to be husbands hand as the bus thumped its way through Glenwood Canyon. They were almost there; she just had one last person she needed to talk to.

“When are you going to be here? The staff is letting me leave for a little while your mother and I thought we could go to dinner and celebrate your twenty second birthday! Call me soon pumpkin. Love you.” He chuckled. Click—the last message she ever received from her dad. She saved it and played it when she needed him most. She hadn't played it in a full week. It wasn't a profound message about life or love or loss. It was just one of those messages you leave normally because the day before your whole life changes is just like any other day.

As the charcoal sky began to turn to black, the sun tucked away under the mountain peaks she remembered the quote her father always used to read to her, “I haven’t a clue how my story will end, but that’s all right. When you set out on a journey and night covers the road, that’s when you discover the stars.”-Nancy Willard