The sunrise

Originally written the on September 5, 2009.

This morning, I woke up a little bit before 7, feeling surprisingly well-rested. I unwound myself from Adelle, leaving her to snooze peacefully on our bed with her Daddy. Liam got up at the same time, so I put on a movie for him so that I could go and enjoy my cup of coffee without harassment from my three-year-old. (My boys really like to have "tastes" of my coffee- I made the mistake of letting them try it one time. They always grimace and then say "That is yummy!" through watery eyes.)

I made my cup of coffee and sat on the back porch waiting for the sun to rise (similar to Adelle's birthday, actually). The setting was slightly different. The sun was later in coming over the mountain, what had been green shoots of young barley was now a field of gold. And instead of joyful anticipation, I held several opposing emotions in my heart. Joy at the thought of returning to my family and friends and familiar surroundings. Melancholy for all the things that I would be giving up here that I have truly grown to love- beautiful clear running streams, gigantic mountains rising from the edge of the valley floor, skies full of stars that make you realize how small you are in this big, huge universe, the ability to walk into the forest and just wander around, seeing things you have never seen before even if you have walked the same path dozens of times, the smell of a forest full of pine trees, the sound of the wind making the Aspen leaves flutter. I could go on.

I had no idea when we moved here how deeply this place would effect me. I won't deny how hard it was at first- that first fall and beginning of winter. Long hours at work for Joe, no friends yet, a high-maintenance toddler. But then the friends came, and spring came and joy came back. More than I could have ever imagined. And then we were put in the position of having to leave even though we didn't want to. And then more opportunity came last summer and we got to stay. And more joy! Our very own Idaho Spud, born in our bathtub after a day of hard work and a walk in the woods. And we all fell in Love. How can I leave a place where we became such a good family?

Edited on September 14, 2009: Things were still rather raw a couple of weeks ago when I originally wrote this post. I want to post it because it reflects how I was feeling. How I still am feeling. But I also feel good, optimistic. Idaho gave us the opportunity to become a family that I never knew that we could become. The opportunity to rely solely on each other, to become a more cohesive unit. I am so thankful for that. The growing. The solitude. The beauty.

And so we return a better family. I will miss the mountains, more than I could have ever anticipated. I hope to return to the mountains someday- perhaps slightly closer mountains ;) But for now we go where we are led. With joy.