[now]here

I thought I was here to relax, but like everything else, it turns out I’m here to learn.

That I’m not in control. That things go wrong. That you can enjoy it all anyway – if you let yourself.

Disclaimer: I can be a brat. A big one.

When we were deciding on places to stay back in January for our big trip out West, a place with a pool was a non-negotiable. After much looking, Gina and I settled on Goosewing Ranch in Wyoming. However, before turning over my credit card number and three-digit security code, I called to verify that the pool would be open for our planned dates. “Yes,” I was told. And so I went ahead with the credit card number.

Fast forward six months and a two-hour drive up a dirt road to the ranch. The first thing I see – that gorgeous pool from the internet pics covered with tarps and surrounded by construction material.

I literally think smoke started coming out of my nostrils.

No email notification with a heads up.
No discount.
No I’m sorry you were misled.

Instead I was told by a ranch employee, “I can assure you that you won’t miss it. We have a river you can swim in.” [The same river we had also read we could tube down, only to later learn that this activity like so many others “starts next week.” I might also mention that it was in the 90s, which according to a local never happens, but also that the river water was like 45 degrees.]

I was pretty sure that  I could assure her that I very much would miss the pool.

My whole demeanor changed. I. Was. Pissed.

After a little pep talk from my bestie reminding me that we’ve been to 100s of pools, and also that my mom has a beautiful in-ground secluded one of her own, I was able to bust out of my funk long enough to enjoy the ATV ride through mountain tails.

Then came activity sign-ups. All of the activities I wanted to do were at the same freakin time and now we would be fitted for our horses tomorrow, and not tonight.

Cue my control freak who by now feels totally blindsided.

Breath Kristina. That fresh mountain air. Breathe it.

Look where you are. Look at the backdrop to your life in this moment. Green covered mountains, and sunlit water, and horses grazing. And lots of space – to see, to write, to feel.

We sat down to dinner (seats assigned), and even though I couldn’t help but complain about the misinformation it now became an inside  joke with the new friends at our table.

A woman at the table asked, “Is there dessert.”
Her partner answered, “That’s for next week guests.”

I am here now. I am [now]here. (Stay tuned for my new tattoo).
So I had better decide to appreciate it (and yes it is a choice). As soon as I adjusted my frame of mind, other things also began shifting.

The head wrangler, Robyn, after finding out about our experience took us on a private 4 hour horse ride along a new trail with lots of little creeks and watering holes. We got to cross the river on horseback and I even got to lope my horse.

 It was spectacular. She is spectacular. We talked about lots of things on that ride – about trauma, about family, about holding on, and about letting go. I owe Robyn for a one of a kind experience that has inspired me to find a stable nearby so that I can continue to ride, and for helping me relearn the lesson that when things appear to  not work out, they really usually do!

Aside: I ended up making friends with so many of the wranglers – these young kids work their tales off and do so with maturity, with grace, and without complaint (that’s more than I can say about my own attitude during parts of the trip).