San Diego → Sedona, AZ → Durango, CO → Glenwood Springs, CO → Ft. Collins, CO → Estes Park, CO

I woke up on the last morning of our road trip to Estes Park, Colorado and set out on a walk to say my morning prayers/intentions/desparations. As I began to look around and notice my woodland surroundings, I thought: just existing here is a prayer.  I released the need to actively pray and let my mind and body just be within the trees. 

Our first delights of the trip were the minty colored shrubs of Sedona set against the deep red dirt. The stunning rock formations jutted into the sky like nature’s divine skyscrapers. Other delights: a hotel pool and some cactus facts from our very own Tucson local, Ryan. 

On Father’s Day we went on a “stupid hike” where everyone “bitched and moaned” and it was “so not fun”. My dad would have been very proud. He loved a good, miserable Father’s Day hike. 

Carrying on through the middle of nowhere, Northern Arizona, my tears began flowing. Missing my dad, missing calling him. So much grief. Then, some relief. 

As we headed out of Arizona into Colorado, Coura asked if we were leaving Alabama yet. And then wondered when we were going to be in Canada. The confusion of stopping at the Four Corners didn’t help her cause. 

After a pit stop in the historic mountain town of Durango, we began our trek on the Million Dollar Highway through the rockies. 

We were welcomed by the sun-drenched, refreshing mountain air and charming alpine flowers. Deep green pine trees mingled with pale green Aspens on the steep mountain sides. (Except for when we drove above the tree line to 12,000 ft. and quite frankly, if trees don’t want to be that high, neither do I.) We stopped at Ouray for lunch, our favorite town, which easily lived up to its name as the “Switzerland of America”. 

We nestled into nooks and crannies, following indecisive river ways, bath and forth, back and forth. I often found myself leaning towards Ryan as if to prevent the car from falling off the sheer cliffs to my right, the kids unbothered in the backseat. 

During the first couple of driving days I told Ryan we needed to let the kids suffer a bit. Get bored, appreciate the scenery, play some terrible road trip games. I tricked them into an hour of black magic (remember that one?). Eventually, we were the ones suffering the most, so we gave into ample movies and show time, lollipops at rest stops. Less control, more flow. 

I love watching the landscape change on a road trip. I hate when my kids scream at me for snacks. I love being moved to tears by a song on the radio. I hate when someone has to pee right after we stopped for the bathroom. I love the spontaneous conversations and hearing sister chatter in the backseat. I hate when my kids scream at me for snacks. 

The Rocky Mountains held me in a way I haven’t ever really quite felt before. I kept waiting for anxiety to kick in, like it typically does (especially on unfamiliar trips), but it never did. My whole body was content and at home. Just like Mara who woke up every morning with the cheesiest grin, and Maisley and Coura who discovered fruit loops at the continental breakfast. As we drove into Denver, I missed the mountains instantly, even if I sound like a cliched, granola bumper sticker saying so. 

We had one snafu in the city and misread our gas gauge, stalling in the middle of the road. My good friend Suzanne happened to be with us for this leg of the road trip and hitch-hiked to get a can of gas (hero). I mostly scared the kids by yelling at Ryan to get out of the car and come onto the sidewalk with us. #familymemories

After passing by the scenery relatively quickly by car, we landed for a few days in Estes Park for two of our best friends’ wedding (more to come). There, we paused and had the delight of seeing Colorado more slowly and closely. We stumbled upon five moose friends, including a mama and her baby, in one hour at the Rocky Mountain National Park (thanks for nothing, Alaska! Just kidding, I love you Alaska). We hiked with the foreign native flowers and listened intently to the sequin-like leaves of the Aspen trees quaking in the wind. My girls made pinecone centerpieces and sold them to me for a hug. I love watching their creativity and bravery expand when we’re out of our routine.

Colorado waved goodbye with magical realism; currents in the air brushed the tall alpine grass side to side revealing its dark and light sides. It felt like a hypnotic dream, one I can still see when I close my eyes.  Until next time Colorado. 

Life is a prayer.