The mountains are calling and I must go
During the last week of July, my family and I packed up and made our annual trip to the Rocky Mountains of Alberta. This has been a tradition every summer since before I was born, starting with my grandpa, continuing on with my mom and her sisters, and now me. It’s a tradition I look forward to continuing with my own children, and it’s where I want to return when I die. It is quite simply my favourite place in the world.
This summer was the first one in a while we’ve all been able to attend. Both my parents, my grandpa, Cody and I, my brother and his girlfriend, and my other brother and sister. And as we were there, I remember thinking so often remember this.
I’ve waited the entire summer for this moment. And as we drove down the mountain to return home, I was already counting down to next year. Summer for me really is this one weekend.
Maybe it’s because I’m older now, or healthier. Maybe it’s having become a mother and understanding for myself the emotion behind carrying on this tradition with my own family. Or maybe it was just all of us being together for the first time in what seems like forever and likely the last time until Christmas. But something about this weekend felt magical.
One misty morning, with the mountain chill still in the air, as I made my way from Cody and my cabin up to my grandpa’s cabin where I knew hot coffee would be waiting for me, I had this thought: I’ve never felt more myself than I do right now
The feeling of being here, alive, strong, healthy, it all collapsed in on me and I could only stand in complete gratitude of what my life has become. It’s a life I never thought possible even 2 years ago. It’s a life that’s been made possible because of an organ donor (2 actually. One who sits with me around the dinner table and is my hero, making me proud every single day to be his sister).
The July warmth made it possible to see wildlife, including mama bears and cubs (black bears and grizzly, which if you don’t know are my favourite animal on the planet. When I come back, I’m coming as one of those). I drank from the river, swam in the hot springs, hiked the short distance to the old swimming pool my grandpa remembers from when he was a boy with his parents. There were wildflowers and herbs to identify, afternoons in the summer sun playing board games and reading. There was no cell service, no relentless pinging of notifcations telling me I had to be anywhere other than right where I was.
I didn’t feel like going when we left. The last few weeks have been really heavy. But pulling up that mountain drive, I felt something release. It was the tiniest thing, but it was everything. I was home.
