January 10, 2019
Coming home always stirs up memories. Traveling down old roads in favorite, familiar places does that. I let my mind run its course through those memories, linger in the dents and curves and worn edges of my heart and soul, and I just... smile.
It comes to mind that the best thing about these memories is that they feel comfortable and happy and worn...
Worn like the faded color of the photograph of my grandpa smiling back from atop his favorite black and white pinto.
Worn like the grayed and weathered wood Bob Marshall sign on top of Pyramid Pass.
Worn like the leather on my saddle and t...