welcome home.

Yosemite.

The incredible mountains, the hilarious people, the climbing in mass amounts and the mass amounts of people climbing.

I love how it is always the same and I’m the one that changes every time.  I do love that so much.

Last year the change was almost tragic.  I didn’t want to be faced with the change in myself… the mess it was… the beautiful mess of it all.

This year is amazingly refreshing.

I forgot how many people you meet in Yosemite… how many friends are always here.

At the Mobil on the East side at 9am, I am walking in for coffee and I see an old friend…

– Hey!

– Heeeeeyyyyyy….

[big hug.]

– Welcome home, Rach.

So warm inside.  Home.  And the realization that this is not my home… I love my home that is not here… this is not my home… but it always could be.

Last night after logistic frustrations and spending most of my time with just one other person, I decided it was time to get a drink… not a beer… at a real bar… not a bear bin.

Went to the Mountain Room Bar for a stiff drink and some baseball watching.  Evan stayed for a hot second but then remembered that he hates baseball and had old friends to dine with, so decided to leave.  I sat at the bar, by myself, LOVING the amount of people in this silly Yosemite bar cheering so loud for the Giants.

An older man sat next to me and soon enough, we were friends.  His name is Dennis.  We ordered another drink, watched the game, talked baseball, childhood t-ball, father/daughter relationships, love relationships, Yosemite, jobs, everything.

– I’m here celebrating my 39th anniversary with my wife.

– Congrats!  That’s awesome.

– Thanks.  Yeah, thank goodness we’re just such great friends… aside from the romantic relationship and all.

– Yeah, that must help.

– Well, see… it’s all about compromise… every relationship is… but I think you’re too young to know that.  Do you compromise in your relationship?

– Ha… I try.  But, then again, I was sitting by myself at a bar because I wouldn’t let my boyfriend convince me to go have dinner with his friends.

– Haha… Good for you.

We ended up hugging after the Giants won and I congratulated him again on the amazing place he’s at in life… he wished me luck and thanked me for the good talk.  Friends.

I walked to a dark picnic table at Camp Four and had another drink, meeting/making new friends over candlelight.

This morning it was raining, Evan was feeling sick…

A sign for a garage sale.  In Yosemite?  Sure.  Let’s do this.

Walk up…

– Heeeeyyyy…

– Heeeeyyyy…

– Jane, right?

– Yeah!  Rachel?

Awesome.  Old friend.  I bought some of her old clothes, Evan was handed the most perfect shirt for him ever and we found Scrabble… which we’ve been kicking ourselves for not bringing this whole time.  Ah-mazing.

The simple simple joys of Yosemite.  Of life, I guess… but everything’s more alive, more gorgeous, in Yosemite.

On the walk away from the garage sale, with our large bag filled with new treasures in hand, we run into Dennis.

– Dennis!

– Rachel!

– Dennis, Evan.  Evan, Dennis.

– Hey, Dennis… I’ve heard a lot about you.

– Ha, oh, ummm… Yeah.

– Good day?

– Oh, it’s always an amazing day here.

– True.  Welp, have a good one.  It was great meeting you.

– So good meeting and talking with you, too!

Simple.

Gorgeous.

The tip of all the amazingness and love found in this valley.

And all to the soundtrack made by a love for our old employee kitchen.  Dillon, a beautiful Yosemite boy, called it “His Love Letter to the Terrace”… the Terrace being the area we lived.  I’ve been playing it non-stop and wish you were all here to sing along…

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