“While pondering the infinity of the stars, we ignore the infinity of our father.” -Milan Kundera

      Oh, to wake up every morning in the mountains. I have gotten up early to spend some time alone, appreciating the rare early morning sunlight (I am a vampire, after all) and listening to the river rush over the rocks, laughing as a baby squirrel darts in front of my feet. The porch is quiet and the air is fresh. Today my task is to drive 20 minutes into Meeker to buy food for our family for the next few days and to cook breakfast before everyone else wakes up. Coffee in my hand, I accompany my father as he drives through the narrow switchbacks and dirt roads. On the way to the store for bacon and eggs my Dad pulls over to pick some sage and look at an old school building.

    There is nothing straightforward about my father. My natural inclination is to hurry. To scramble from point A to point B as quickly as possible. My dad on the other hand winds and weaves, smelling the roses (or sagebrush) as he wanders. I have many attributes from my father but this slow, inquisitive meandering is not my forte. I watch as he stops to point out the old ranches and then catches a glimpse of some elk drinking from the river out of the corner of his eye. I smile. My stomach rumbles and my coffee cup is empty; we are still miles from the store. But there are lessons to be learned in this early morning drive. Breakfast can wait.