A simple Thanksgiving
Once or twice a year it’s good to make the cross-state trip to the dry side; for me it’s the quiet side. When the city starts to close in on a person—the traffic gets too tangled, the week days so hectic and the weekends a blur—it’s good to get away from it all. To step out of the spinning world, and just sit on the couch near the crackling fire staring at the snow falling outside. The dog sleeps curled up and Mom bakes something sweet and wonderful.
Seems idyllic, doesn’t it? For some, anyway. (For me.) I look forward to coming home to it all at the parents’ house, far out on the 395 in Eastern Washington. Things seem simpler here. It’s a nice escape.
And yet sitting here, relaxing—and sitting—and drinking and eating and sitting… since Thursday—god, I’m aching for some shredding on the board or bike. My legs are antsy for movement; all that fluffy snow is mocking. All my stuff is back in Seattle. Maybe we’ll get creative this afternoon. Or maybe just let the feeling build up and execute a crazy shred session when we get back to the Cascades.
Either way, what I’m saying is that, with the friends, the family, and the boyfriend I have, the snow and trails, yeah—I’ve definitely got a lot to be thankful for.