Dear Mom,

I don't know another state that is such a study in contrasts as Wyoming. It has the plains like Kansas, the awe-inspiring mountains in the northwest, and the beautiful canyon country.

Our road trips up to the Glenwood hot springs when I was little were perfect to prepare me for my drive the last few days. I spent a few days in Cody and then drove down to Thermopolis to remind myself a little bit of my childhood.

I sat in the hot springs, and thought about the weekends we would spend in the Glenwood Canyon. The smell of the water brought back your laugh and a strange hint of your perfume.

It was a short drive from Thermopolis down to Shoshoni and from there I took twenty-six up to the National Forest.

Tonight I'm staying at the Tower Fall Campground. I took the hike down closer to the base of the falls, my breath taken away by the hundred and thirty-odd foot cascade of water rushing above me.

I was lucky and the sun was bright. The light reflected beautifully from the water and the air was full of rainbows. I took many pictures and sent a few to Meg who enthusiastically replied praising their beauty.

I did wake up in the middle of the night last night to hear something very large snuffling around outside my trailer, and when I went outside this morning there were large bear tracks all around the campsite.

I'm grateful I wasn't staying in a tent as that would have made me a tasty snack for any discerning carnivore.

Mom, going through the grandeur of Yellowstone and the Teton's has made me glad I'm taking this trip. A little of the urgency seems to have melted away with the pounding water of Tower Falls and left my shoulders feeling stronger, the weight on them less overwhelming.

I know this new found peace won't stay, so I'm trying to enjoy it to the best of my ability while it lasts.

I spent almost two hours sitting near the trail staring up at Tower Falls, ignoring the people who were milling around taking pictures. It was almost like the ocean waves pounding the shore, or the wind blowing through trees in a dense forest. The sound was overpowering, intimidating. There was nothing I could do against it, and for once I didn't want to try.

There's a peace in letting go. I hope I'm never too afraid of what could happen to let go of the controls just a little.

I looked at my emails today, and was chagrined by the amount of emails from my adviser at college. She checked in when I didn't come back for exams, of course. I expected nothing less. But she's written me a few since then, asking if everything's okay.

She said she heard about what happened to you, and she wants to be sure I have the support I need.

I'm not even sure what support I do need.

Dad texted me last night. I was surprised I even got it since service can be a little spotty in the mountains. He just asked me for the location of some of your documents and passwords. He's being dry and clinical and it's probably the best he can do with everything that's happened.

I replied with the information he asked for and added that I loved him. It took fifteen minutes to get a reply from him, but he did say he loved me too.

I can believe him.

I think I can trust this man who's been in my life from the beginning to love me through all my mistakes.

I think.

Who knows what goes through the mind of someone who's been so hurt? I can't guarantee anything at this point except he's probably wishing he could be doing anything else than dealing with the affairs of the woman he lost long before she died.

I still can't believe you're dead.

I still love you.

Bo

I can hear the wind rustling through the trees not far from my trailer, and this journal is nearly full. For all my limited space I didn't want to start a brand new one with this trip.

I've been flipping back through the pages where I pasted pictures of Mom's birthday last year, featuring the one of Dad in that sombrero prominently. I couldn't help but laugh at the silly memories. His horrible rendition of “Happy Birthday”.

The way Mom laughed at him while he shamelessly flirted. She could have been twenty again, and falling for the handsome coal miner.

Neil used to always make fun of me for keeping such meticulous track of my life in my journal, with pictures to prove everything, but looking back through this journal gives me something to grasp onto about my past.

None of the happiness of those times is simply seen through the filter of my grief. They were truly happy times, notwithstanding the arguments, fights, and bouts of sulks.

It's not that I think she was perfect. We had our issues. Mom was a fiery redhead and it showed in the words that spewed from her mouth when angry.

But she always more than made up for it.

If her anger was awe-inspiring, her generosity of spirit was heart warming. She was fire, snow, and the fiercest wind. She was passionate and frightening.

She was my mother, and she was everything she should have been.

I suppose I should put the letter in the shoe box and my journal back in the nook where it lives. I'm grateful for the warmth of my blankets in these mountains, and tired from the hike earlier. My music reached the end of the playlist and stopped playing several minutes ago. There's a peace in this moment I wasn't sure I'd ever achieve again. I hope something in your world brings a peace like this to your life.