ELK RIVER FALLS

It is eternally weird being back in Moscow. Especially after such a long time away spent convinced I'd never have to see this place ever again.

Brandon and I had some version of this conversation easily thirty billion times while living in New York:

"Hey! Let's move back to Moscow!"

"Oh my gosh that's the worst idea ever." 

"Wouldn't it be amazing to move back to Idaho? Maybe after we retire?"

"Yes!  . . .  Except that sounds awful, it snows too much there."

"Man! Sometimes I think we really should just move back to Moscow and get it over with already."

"Right? Except, you can't go back to Moscow. I'm not sure Moscow really exists."

Well, crap.

We've had a lot of places on our list of places we want to re-experience now that we are old and here again and things are so familiar yet so bizarre. For instance, this weekend we went to see Brandon's office in the accounting department at WSU, in the same building where he went to get his MBA a million years ago. 

On his bookshelves in his office he'd lined up a few of his old textbooks, along with his various diplomas (all eleven million of them), and a few pieces of nostalgia from vacations + experiences past. A souvenir from the Statue of Liberty, a teacher's voodoo doll from our time in New Orleans, and his old WSU student ID card. Oh gosh, Brandon was so young back then. I glanced from item to item, everything was just fine, until I got to his ID card and I was struck with this almost overwhelming physical response to it. 

Hey! I know that boy! I fell in love with that boy! What happened to that boy?? 

It was the face I spent hours looking at in our ward directory at BYU when we were apart, first getting to know each via other long-distance emails, staying up late on the phone when we both knew we had to wake up early the next morning. And I realized I missed him. It was so weird. I was with him, but I missed him, and I'm still trying to figure what all that was. I struggled not to cry the rest of the day and I'm still not really sure why. 

Right, so, one of the places on our list of places to re-experience was the hike at Elk River Falls. 

The last time we were here I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, and while talking with Brandon about how weird Huckleberry bushes are, I decided I knew what I wanted to name my baby. 

Huckleberries won't grow anywhere but in the wild. Did you know that? You can't really cultivate them in your own garden, they don't flourish that way. You have to find them where they are. Because they can only grow where they want to grow.

That is so my baby for you.

(That is so my Idaho for you.)

Oh, it's weird to be back home. It's weird and wild and sad and wonderful. And hard as hell. But damn, is it good.