Sunday driving through Big Cottonwood Canyon with Sunday music (Johnny Cash, Eagles, Mike Ness) and coffee and BJ might be my most beloved pastime. This canyon is the number two reason my heart’s home is Utah. This stately canyon never fails to bring me happiness and peace. Well, one time, it failed, maybe...it doesn’t perform miracles, but we won’t get into that right now. So many memories and ghosts housed between these formidable evergreen-thick crests. My first time skiing with my sister and dad, listening to Mariah Carey "Always Be My Baby" on the drive up with the sunroof open. Consuming yogurt en masse in the ski lodge on free yogurt day with our childhood neighbors, I didn’t even like yogurt. Being forced to look at the beautiful scenery through the hawked spit the wind slapped onto my backseat window from a front seat rider on the drive down. Snowshoeing, bbqing, hiking, setting up dismal looking tents in the middle of the night off the side of the street because it got too dark and we couldn’t decide on a camping spot, bouncing taffy off of children’s noggins while riding a makeshift float in the Brighton 4th of July Parade, pregnant hitchhiking after BJ’s car died and the bars stubbornly disappeared on our phones, leisurely promenading around the silver lake at one time as a child with a Halloween sticker pressed on my cheek, more than a decade later (with a thousand times in between) with my infant in her stroller and kitty sweater. My exit route. Whenever I crave a diversion from the mundane in my brain, I instinctively head to this little mouth knowing it is always here to swallow me up for awhile and deliver a more sentient version of myself back into the world.
4 hours ago