leaving colorado.

Leaving an Eden is always terrible.

Leaving an Eden via a cramped car with five over tired and sad kids AND spending about one bazillion hours in Kansas and staying at subpar hotels across the middle states of the U.S. is the actual worst.

I’d say I’m not complaining.

But I am definitely complaining.

I’m sitting in some hotel room in Tennessee because I just could not drive one more mile. I ordered pizza and had it delivered to our room and the kids are watching whatever cable television has to offer these days.

Tomorrow or the next day (or the next) I’ll type pretty words. I’ll be at my own house. I’ll share (too many) photos of our ridiculously wonderful week at Lost Valley Ranch. I’ll also be doing laundry and washing my own dishes and (yikes!) cooking my own food.

London told my dad that she was sad about leaving the ranch. Then she said she was so sad that there was an ache in her soul. Every horse we’ve seen on our drive home made us wish we were still riding the trails. When we could no longer see the Rocky Mountains out of our rearview mirror we all mourned deeply.

There are a hundred reasons to miss our week at the ranch. Certainly some include the luxury of having your bed made daily and of having steak served on a weeknight and of being treated like an honored guest. And the pleasure of spending time with friends and meeting new folks and riding horseback in the mountains.

Yes to all that.

And more.

But also – the incredible and undeserved opportunity to leave our messy and exhausting current world and just straight up revel in all that is valuable – relationships, family, conversations, friendships, food, the great outdoors.

It was light and happy and hopeful and a true filling up.

Of course we want to stay.

And I’m betting there’s some quality analogy about how we don’t get to live on the mountain top – about how we go there to get rest so we can live in the valley and pour out all that we learned on the mountain top.

Yeah, maybe that’s true.

But right now my stomach hurts from eating a lunch at Dairy Queen and a dinner at Papa John’s. I’m about to share a hotel bed with a kid and I still have more hours on the road tomorrow. And, I know it’s indulgent and all, but I’m real sad. I don’t want to go back to the routine – whatever that is these days.

I want to wake up to snow on a Tuesday morning in June. I want to see the sun set over the mountains. I want to think about only what is directly in front of me. I want my cell phone to stop receiving a signal and I want to go to bed reading a novel every evening.

Sigh.

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