Day 4: Sunday, August 1, 2021

Who’s in Charge Here? Hint: Not Us

It may be the early hour (6:46 Mountain Time) or the delirium of having driven 2,136 miles in four days, but oh, life is funny even when it’s complicated, maybe especially because it’s complicated.

We left Rawlins, Wyoming at a more sensible hour—particularly for Evan, our 13-year-old, who is (I swear) sprinting towards adulthood. Maybe he’ll be old enough to take a shift driving back to Raleigh.

About two hours in, Ryan laughed so hard at something that he blew a gasket in his nose. He sported a most impressive nose-bleed. Thankfully, we’d swiped “good hotel napkins” (you know the ones I’m talking about, fellow moms, am I right?) We stocked enough stop an amputation, let alone a simple nose-bleed. Adam sat in the back rolling one napkin-based nose plug after another while Ryan patiently waited it out. Evan was thoroughly unimpressed by the episode. I watched the road. You’re welcome.

Because we’d pushed so hard those first three days of driving (thanks for the tip, Uncle Chris and Aunt Barbara!), our trip into Salt Lake City was just four hours long. Once again, the landscape shifted all around us, including shapes, colors, heights, and sights. The color palette gradually incorporated the greenery of rugged shrubbery, then softening grasses, then sturdy pines. SO BIG AND BEAUTIFUL.

The drive itself wasn’t difficult from the confines of Natasha, but the roads offered a taste of what’s to come, which will be made manifestly more complicated in a 27’ RV. I’d say “Don’t worry,” but I know who’s reading this, Mom. What we can promise are the care, caution, and respect that the area and the vehicle demand. Adam and I were raised to be mindful of nature. Moreover, a substantial goal of our trip is to teach our boys that nature is in charge.

Adam had been to Salt Lake City before. He marveled about and wanted to revisit the 168 year old Mormon temple. I had reservations. It’s complicated, so we’ll spare the details. I wanted to offer a simple, “No; we’re not going,” thinking that was the quickest, cleanest, simplest solution. But it wasn’t necessarily the right one. So, off we went.

We arrived at the temple grounds and were met by the most colossal arrangement of construction scaffolding, concrete walls, and safety fencing that might have rivaled the Burj Khalifah’s construction site in Dubai. The Mormon temple was closed, and not just “Hey, sorry for the inconvenience; catch up with us next weekend kind of closed,” I mean CLOSED. Evidently, an earthquake in 2019 damaged the building, necessitating urgent repairs and upgrades lasting four years or longer. So, move along kids; nothing to see here.

Instead of wringing my hands over an ethical dilemma, I reveled in a moment of absurdity. And at 6:30 in the morning, as I sought quiet and solitude to write in the hotel restaurant, a friendly gaggle of Korean women attending a conference sat down right next to me: all 15 of them.

We want things to go right. We plan for them as best we can, but noses bleed, earthquakes rattle, and humans gaggle, because that’s the nature of things. And it’s probably a good thing to be reminded that nature is in charge.