July 8th
Dear Mom,
I’ve always had this picture in my mind when it comes to Utah. I wasn’t sure exactly the place I was thinking about, but it’s a red arched rock. I wasn’t sure what to search to find it, so I’ve just wandered. I found it in South West Utah. It’s called Arches National Park and it’s is incredible.
I drove a little further south and was surprised to find a place called Hole N the Rock. The history of it is so cool, and I think you would have been fascinated by the carvings the original builder created as well as the exotic animals they keep there.
I somehow expected all of Utah to be like that picture in my head, red and rocky, and I was a little surprised, especially since I lived so near Utah for most of my life how diverse the beauty of it is.
Of course, it has its fair share of desert, and the Great Salt Lake is huge. But the miles of hills to the southeast of Salt Lake City are far greener than I thought possible.
I know, I’m obsessed with all things green, and you would definitely point that out if you were here with me. You’d give me the side-eye every time I brought it up and we’d laugh and you’d point out the other colors in the rainbow and how all of God’s creation has beauty if we’re just open to looking for it.
It’s just that everything seems muted like a filter has fallen over the world and all I can see is the green.
I’ll make the effort to see more. There’s always more to see if I just look, and Utah is a good place to begin with all the startling contrasts and the bright sun lighting up the sky.
While I was in Salt Lake City I checked out some of the historical sites. The gardens are cool, and they have one that’s full of sculptures, including one of a Phoenix with the head of Joseph Smith. Fascinating. The whole garden was full of stones inscribed with scriptures too.
Mom, I’m not sure what to do about Dad. I know the decision I made to leave hurt him. I think he may have given up on me and I wouldn’t blame him.
I really need him to not have given up on me.
I don’t know how to reach out to him and ask him for forgiveness. I don’t even know the words I would use to begin a letter to him. The thought of calling him and trying to communicate anything I’m feeling or any reasons for what I did causes my throat to close up in panic.
I know it was reckless and selfish, but my flight instincts kicked in and I can’t get them to settle down and let me go home. I just can’t. I feel so lost and alone and I know it’s not only your death that brought me here. It was my own choices that did this, and giving into the overwhelming panic of being in that house was one of the worst ones I made, but I can’t just quit.
That would make the decision not only foolish but worthless. If I can’t even finish what I started what good am I?
And if I end up leaving Dad without anyone or anything to care for him, then I’m worse than useless.
I'm just not sure if it would be better for him to be hurt by me being selfish, or to be hurt by me not being around at all.
I should know the answer to that.
But I don’t.
Maybe you didn’t either, and you just kept on because of me.
I miss that about you.
I love you.
Bo.
I did end up digging behind my bed and fishing out the letter that had fallen back there.
I also had to buy a new pair of shoes after I wore a hole in the bottom of one of mine, so I’ve started storing the letters in the shoebox instead of the glovebox of my car.
I’ve also been storing Jasper’s hexaflexagon in the box, and I’m rubbing it between my thumb and fingers of one hand as I write this with the other.
I still haven’t opened it to see what he wrote. I haven’t even gotten up the courage to read any of the words scrawled across the side I can see.
By now I've worked it up in my head and while I'm sure he wrote something cool inside there's no way it will live up to my expectations. So I've worn the paper down rubbing it at night and refused to look any closer.
One of these days I should look. That way at least I can get it and him out of my head. I'd rather know if he doesn't deserve a place there.
I haven't heard from Meg in a while and I hope they're okay. I wonder if she'll end up moving to Oregon and how they'll navigate the change between the hot dry desert and the verdant tropics.
I miss Oregon, but mostly I miss the coast. Sitting in the sand, huddled in my hoodie to stay warm, listening to the roar of the surf and the calls of the birds around me.
Maybe I'll go back at the end of this trip and see Meg and Tom. Maybe we'll go to Newport and enjoy some of Mo's Chowder and climb the bluff overlooking Nye Beach.
Maybe I'll have been brave enough by then to read Jasper's words.
But for now I'll look forward to seeing the rest of the states. Wyoming is next and I've heard such conflicting reports. It's another state I can't believe I haven't been to.
The sun has disappeared completely from the sky, and I can see a sliver of moon through my little window. My music is playing from my phone, and I'm shivering a little even though it's not really cold. I hope you, like me, can choose to see something other than the pain, even for a moment. Goodnight.