So, here we are, finally. In Salt Lake City. Still unconverted. And we even found PLACES TO DRINK BEER. So there, all you Utah-naysayers. It’s been an exhausting 5 days or so, but we’ve managed to make it all in one piece and with some sanity to spare. Mostly thanks to our parents and friends, who helped us in more ways we can thank them for in the packing, loading, care-package-dropping-off, driving, unloading, installing, organizing… Did I mention we already found places to drink beer? Oh, and guess what else: THEY HAVE KRISPY KREME HERE. I think God smiled upon me by flashing that “hot donuts now” sign as we were driving around today in search of a Target.
We love it here already. The homesickness hasn’t really had a chance to register yet, and I don’t think it will until my parents-in-law leave Friday. Don’t get me wrong… saying goodbye was excruciating, and in most cases we pulled a “welp, see ya later!” and ran off before the heavy duty intense emotions set in. I tend to be on the emotional side, and I get very emotionally attached and nostalgic about people and places, but it is seriously exhausting to allow myself to really, truly FEEL that emotion. So I try to avoid it as much as possible. Does this make me a bad person?
Anyway, there is still too much excitement around here for any negativity to seep in, and I can’t sit still until every last thing is in its place and I finally get just the right curtains hung in the living room. So no pictures of the apartment til just the right curtains arrive. That would be my mom coming out in me. Can’t help genetic predispositions… what can I say?
So until then, I wanted to share two things with you: first, a passage from Donald Miller’s “Through Painted Deserts,” which we listened to on CD in the car somewhere between Kentucky and Wyoming, because it more adequately sums up everything Jamie and I have been feeling lately, and in a much more eloquent way. It is even better when heard in Donald’s voice, but this will have to do. Also, of course there will be a visual portion of the blog. I mean, DUH. I know you’d probably throw daggers at my face if I didn’t post any. And because my blog header reads “Morgan Trinker Photography,” I’d probably deserve it.
“I remember the sweet sensation of leaving, years ago, some ten now, leaving Texas for who knows where. I could not have known about this beautiful place, the Oregon I have come to love, this city of great people, this smell of coffee and these evergreens reaching up into a mist of sky, these sunsets spilling over the west hills to slide a red glow down the streets of my town.
And I could not have known then that if I had been born here, I would have left here, gone someplace south to deal with horses, to get on some open land where you can see tomorrow’s storm brewing over a high desert. I could not have known then that everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that I must keep changing, and I want to change because it is God’s way. All my life I have been changing. […] Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.
I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.
Only the good stories have the characters different at the end than they were at the beginning. And the closest thing I can liken life to is a book, the way it stretches out on paper, page after page, as if to trick the mind into thinking it isn’t all happening at once. […]
I want to repeat one word for you:
Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.”
Goodbye, Knoxville. For now anyway. I know you will be there when I get back. But I hope you don’t mind if I seem a little different next time. Maybe you will too.
“Well, your face would look this pitiful if your parents were forcing you to become addicted to sedatives just so you would ‘settle down, for crying out loud!’ I’m a dog, people. I was not designed to be in a car for days on end. Just so you know next time you get an itch to load up the moving van and drive 1800 miles across the country in two days.”
The idea was to take a picture of every state line we crossed. But then I was sleeping as we passed through Nebraska, and the streak ended. Ah, well.
Who says Kentucky isn’t beautiful? (And by the way, people like to talk all the time about the vast differences in landscape from one region of the country to the next, but many of the pictures I took along the way, from the South through the Midwest and finally into the mountain states, are very similar. Same rural backdrops, spotted with ranches and farms and grazing animals. I kind of loved that. It was like just seeing America, not seeing all these separate regions with their separate cultures and people. You should try it sometime.)
It didn’t take long for the sedatives to kick in…
I think that rolled-down windows are God’s version of the Holy Spirit for dogs. Gretchen looks almost as happy as I am when I see Krispy Kreme signs.
“Seriously? Another sedative?”
Since I was not willing to risk losing my camera to the highway by hanging out the window to take a picture of the look on Gretchen’s face here, I had to get a little creative.
Jamie jabs me in side as I am dozing off…. “Hey! Hey! It’s a cool bridge! Take a picture!” Ah, what an assistant he is.
I did catch Missouri though! (Barely.)
This was about the nicest thing St. Louis had to offer. At least from what we could gather driving through it on the interstate. Pretty cool though.
And so the boredom sets in…
And apparently making faces with your wedding ring in your mouth just isn’t quite entertaining enough…
Sometimes when I wear Chacos, I like to pretend I am a granola girl. But then I have to go and take a shower and eat processed food and ruin the whole thing.
Road trip perfection.
Sunset in Nebraska…
Sunrise in Nebraska. Taken only moments after getting a $119 speeding ticket. Priceless.
Pit stop in Cheyenne, Wyoming to meet up with Megan, Brandon, Mike, and Jen for lunch. Yes please.
This picture was made possible by Jamie’s gorilla arms. Thanks Jamie for having such abnormally useful limbs!
Cutest pregnant girls I know!
What the mile marker is blocking here is quite possibly one of the most intriguing billboards I’ve ever seen: “Nation’s Smallest Town: Bufort, Wyoming, Population 1.” How is that even possible? Can I have MY own town? Except it would have to be probably second smallest with a population of 3, because Trinker, Utah would just not be complete without Jamie and Gretchen.
And so the sun sets on our journey, with just a few hours left until we make it to our new home, sweet home. Tempting as it was to stay in Wyoming.
All in all, it was a pretty fun time. At least, the parts I was awake for. I promise there will be many more pictures and updates, but right now my body is still struggling to adjust to the time change and it is LATE, people! Love you and miss you all. Come visit!