Home

Shortly before the sun peaked over the Rocky Mountains this morning, I packed up a few last items from my bachelors pad, loaded them in the back of my truck and started the journey home to Logan, Utah. In reality, I've been trying to get home for the past 582 days - obsessively. Dreaming, hoping and meticulously planning this exact moment. From the very second that the Weld County judge's heavy hammer fell and sentenced me to 5 years of incarceration - this is the only thought that ever mattered.

This past week has been full of endless amounts of reflection. One of my biggest fears is that I haven't learned everything that I needed to from this experience... Am I a better person because of this experience? Did I learn what I was supposed to learn? Did I help those that I was supposed to help? Did I recognize those that were sent to help me? Was I strong enough? What permanent damage have I caused? What did I handle correctly? What could I have handled better? What does the future hold? Will things ever go back to the way they were before? The more I try and think through the answers to my questions, the more I am reminded that life doesn't always manifest itself in a clear-cut, black and white manner. The truth is that there is only person who can answer all the questions - and by design, he keeps life mysterious, trying and unpredictable. 

There are parts of me that are forever changed. Training to become and eventually becoming a certified wildland firefighter (while incarcerated) was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Just the past week a fire broke out just a few miles from my house here in Denver. It was scarily close to some very good friends' homes and every part of me wanted to go up and fight on that fire. The brotherhood that was built with some of the guys that I fought fires with will last forever. There are relationships that I will always have that came out of my time in prison. I learned what great people there are in this world - who have been born into terrible circumstances that never allowed them escape. There are truly some inspiring people who reside behind bars of steel and walls of concrete - people who have made it further in life than many of us ever could have (given where they started). I am convinced that when we finally stand before our maker we will be judged not only on where we ended up - but on how far we came. 

While incarcerated I read about a Japanese philosophy known as "Mono No Aware". While its extremely difficult to translate, the easiest explanation of the concept is "the awareness of the impermanence of almost everything in this life". Life itself is impermanent and there is tremendous sadness in knowing that everything we touch, see and feel comes to an end. However, the Japanese looked at things in such a way that they appreciated things that were short-lived - grateful to having been witness to the dazzling miracle of life - knowing that none of it can last. The best description I read was-" The pre-eminent symbol of mono no aware is the cherry blossom, whose fragile efflorescence captivates our attention so briefly during the first bloom of spring. Crucially, our appreciation of its beauty is heightened  by our awareness of its transiency, in a way that would be missing if its delicate blossoms were a permanent feature of our landscape". Never have I been more aware of the fleeting nature of everything - incarceration has a way of teaching you about all you take for granted. I come out of this period of my life knowing that so many things are temporary. Our beautiful kids are growing up so fast, Sallie and I are starting feel the creep of age. Our parents and grandparents are approaching the ages of mortality. But instead of being overly saddened by this- I choose to be grateful that I get to enjoy to the transient beauty of  this life and everything in it.

The hero of this entire journey is my wife Sallie. I will never know anyone stronger, more supporting, loving or loyal than my amazing wife. The way that she stood by me, never played the victim, continued raising our kids, fought and fought and fought more...she is extraordinary. Whether she was lobbying the judge for mercy, calling various departments to understand the process, hand delivering my letters of support, or sweet-talking community boards on my behalf - she never backed down. I don't have enough command of the English language to properly capture in words how much she means to me. I was told by someone (whom I admire greatly) that Sallie would be the greatest blessing I would ever receive. In every way, shape and form this has manifest itself. While I was in prison, every weekend that I was not out fighting on a fire, Sallie was there to visit me. Sallie and I would have exactly 5 hours to sit and talk with each other. In so many ways, I feel like our relationship grew exponentially during those visits. There were no life distractions, no noise, just us...surrounded by mountains. Sallie's visits are a classic example of mono no aware. From the moment she arrived to see me I was already dreading her leaving...but the fact that our time with each other was so limited...made our time together that much more meaningful. I hope that she and I will still find time to sit and talk - reminiscing about the times that we would have given anything for one more precious moment together. 

As my truck crosses state lines, Colorado to Wyoming, Wyoming to Utah, I can't help but think to myself that the journey I'm now driving is not proverbially unlike the one I have just finished. Full of peaks, valleys, and long stretches of seemingly endless horizon...at times overwhelmingly hopeless and other times indescribably miraculous. The closer I get to my destination, the further the sun sets below the horizon -a physical manifestation, I hope, that this chapter of our life is also coming to a close.

As the sun does finally does disappear behind the majestic Wasatch Mountains, I'm so close to home that I can barely keep it all in. The moon takes its place in the night sky - albeit dimly; it's a dark moon night. The presence of the reflective rock in the sky floods my mind with memories of the many nights I spent this past year sleeping under the stars while I was out fighting forest fires. I'd lay awake for hours dreaming about what it would be like to be with Sallie and the kids...wondering on those nights if, just maybe, they were also looking up at those same celestial wonders - longing to be with me.

There is only one big canyon left before I reach my endgame. For so long I've imagined this moment. I'm so caught up in reflection that I have to slow my truck down just to take it all in. I turn the air conditioning off, silence my playlist, roll the windows down and let the cool night air travel across my face. Air, that until I was locked in a cell for endless days and nights... I'd never even considered appreciating. Air that smells, tastes and feels like only freedom can. Air that will never be taken for granted again.

The sudden movement of a doe and her fawn, just beyond my headlights ahead, reminds me that I am completely surrounded by wildlife. Encouraged by the protective twilight, the herds of deer and elk have started their nocturnal ritual out to find food. The knee-high grasses of the hills are as lush and green as I can ever remember them. It's still summer in the familiar canyon but somewhere inside of me, an instinct, learned from a childhood spent exploring these mountains, tells me there is a hint of autumn in the leaves of the trees - my favorite season approaches.  

As I steer my way down the serpentine canyon and around the last couple winding bends of the silent darkness, I am overcome with emotions of gratitude. I think back over the past 4 years and can't believe we actually survived. The weight of the world seemed to have fallen on our little family and although we bent...we did not break. So many people rallied around us, loved us, supported us...saved us. I bow my head slightly, and in reverence, turn my tear-filled eyes towards the heavens. There are a lot of things that I need to say, but the hint of salt from my uncontrolled tears has reached the corners of my mouth and the only words my emotions will allow are, "God, thank you".

By now the darkness of the canyon is starting to give way to the man-made glow of the secluded valley ahead. As I round the final corner, the brilliant, small-town lights of Cache Valley are suddenly before me. I pick a light, one that I know is somewhere close to where my new home is. Somewhere down there Sallie and the kids are waiting for this new chapter of our life to begin. So long I have dreamed of this moment and now it is here... 582 days have passed since I last felt the grace of freedom, heard my kids' footsteps dance across wood floors, slept in my own bed...my dream is finally a reality... and I can't help but whisper to myself, "It is over...I am HOME".