A full year before our wedding, my husband got an offer to complete a master’s degree at the University of Wyoming, which meant that we spent most of our engagement in different time zones. Once a month, I’d fly to Denver and drive two hours north into Laramie, Wyoming, my eyes blind to the mountains flanking the distance, my heart focused on seeing Jeremy standing next to his mailbox, waiting for me.
Now we are both here, and I am seeing that Wyoming is a place that reveals as it haunts, the red rock of the valley we live in as raw as the longing we bring to it, longing we can only face in the wide stretch of plains and sky.
That longing is for both space and safety, for transcendence, for the feel of solid, immovable rock beneath our feet, beneath our life.
When Jeremy first moved here, the miles of snow on either side of Interstate 80 and the feeling we were seeing more land in one blink than we had ever seen in our lives terrified me—an existential kind of fear, both blinding and startling. [Read more...]