under God

My recent physical condition has caused all those who would call themselves my most dear to put a wide distance between me and them. I can't really blame them. I mean, when your saliva is basically radioactive, you wish you could give yourself some distance as well. In fact, I've prayed for that exact thing quite a few times in the last few days but I'm not about to get all religious on you so let's move on which i realize is ironic considering the title of the post. The point is, for the first time in my entire life, I spent the 4th of July alone. All alone. From the time of 6 pm (when my little sister left on her date and i mean what the heck why is she having success in all the places i've previously failed in life?) until...well...I'm still here alone, I have spent my time with the TV watching Will Smith save the planet over and over and over again because for some reason channels like to play Independence Day back to back to back to back on the 4th of July. That, along with the constant companionship of my strong and then stronger pain medicine, has made for quite the holiday. here's to the land of the free and the home of brave. except i'm terrified of moths so do i count as a citizen here?

Well, I finally decided to do something besides rearrange the magnets on the fridge into different faces of sadness and pain and went on a drive. I put my thinking music on and went up the canyon as everyone else was driving down i do what i want and just thought. I thought about a lot of things, like whether or not I was even allowed to be driving with certain medication that may or may not have been in my system. I thought about the first time I drove all the way up that canyon and my best friend almost threw up on me, the happy news my family just received, how many pounds of mashed potatoes I've eaten in my life, and whether or not I'll ever return to Provo.

Then I reached the top, parked the car, got out, and sat on a rock.

My thoughts changed at that point. I sat, looking at the natural skyline of the Wasatch mountains, listening to the water tumble down the canyon. The silhouettes of the pines and aspens stood out against the moon and clouds and the grasses in the meadow gently stirred and slowly danced as a cool breeze wound it's way up and down the small valley. And it hit me. That is America. That is my home. That is the land I am proud and extremely grateful to live in.

Our government and our people are not perfect. We are all corrupt, selfish, and overly opinionated. But the valleys and rivers and mountains and lakes are not. The people can be lazy and greedy and incompetent. But the coasts and forests and plains never are. If only the people of this nation could invoke as much conviction, honor, and love as my 6 minutes in the mountains did. And if we could only live to be worthy of this beautiful place.

Happy Fourth Yo.
rrw