It’s Monday. My ninth Monday in Yellowstone. Next Monday morning, the tenth Monday, I’ll be having breakfast with my friends and coworkers, turning in all of the company issued materials, and breaking camp. It’s really almost over for the year. I can hardly believe that the time has gone by so quickly, until I raise my arms with that 90º bend at the elbow and see the muscle-tone in my upper arms. Guns! I have GUNS! And only a little bit of wing left on the underside. In fact, the hard work of hauling the cleaning kit (known as a Biffy Box), scrubbing showers and hosing them down, swinging a mop, loading the ice freezer, and walking miles every day has put me in the best shape of my late adult life, and stripped off some of the excess weight I’ve been carrying around for close to 30 years. I even have ankles!
To be sure, I’m not a skinny little 20 year old, but something better, inside as well as outside. This summer has been transformative, in so many ways. I feel like I am becoming the person I always wanted to be. The truest me. No pretenses, no posturing, no excuses, and not as many fears. Except for bears.
In the beginning of this adventure, I realized that I was working excessively hard to prove to others, but mostly to myself, that I was capable and worthy. I’ve spent a lot of time in my life trying to prove myself, much to the discomfort of those around me. I am finishing this summer with the realization and confidence that I don’t have to prove myself with extreme actions. The best moments have come with words and actions that came easily and naturally.
The rewards have come in unexpected ways. Concern and care from fellow work campers when I sliced my head open (10 staples!) on the glide-out bedroom of the Hovel. A bottle of Czech beer and a heart drawn in soap bubbles on a shower room floor by two dear young people from the Czech Republic who worked with us in the evenings after their shift in housekeeping was over for the day. Working with strangers who have become dear friends and fellow survivors. Letters and emails (and CARE packages) from friends who have been with me most of my life, encouraging and lifting me up. Sunrises and sunsets, cool misty mornings, thunderstorms, star-filled nights and nights lit up by a full moons. Meadows and hillsides filled with wildflowers, Incredible, otherworldly landscapes. And critters, large and small. I have no choice but to return to Yellowstone. It’s magic has invaded my cells.
What comes between the now and the return are the unanswered questions. Where will I go? Who will I meet or be reunited with on my travels? What work will I do to keep fuel in Old Blue and keep the Hovel parked wherever that somewhere is? What experiences and adventures lie ahead? Whatever the answers are, I’m willing to be there. I want to see how this all turns out, don’t you?
(Note: In the days to come, I’ll be working on #21 — my last note from Yellowstone 2015. And then…on to the next!)