A close friend lost his father right before we were to leave. Evans had known the man who died all his life and I had known him since I met Evans. He was everything a Nashville gentleman should be. We put off the trip so that we could attend his funeral and honor his life.

A week later than planned we finally headed west arriving a day before Evans’ sister and three friends did. If you are going to host four house guests make sure that they are low-maintenance, fun-loving, long-time friends who bring their own Prosecco. We had so much fun getting settled and enjoying our company, I neglected to write. I did finally write a great blog post about these girls after they left, then never posted it. I lacked photos, then got distracted, then it was too late.

A few days after our guests left the phone rang. I heard Evans say, “Of course we are coming home.” I knew someone we loved had died. The next morning we drove back across country to celebrate the life of Evans’ fabulous Aunt Patricia who deserves her own blog post. While we were home, Evans’ mother had difficulty breathing. Her COPD was worsening, and she was hospitalized. We stayed in Nashville until she was able to go home. Then once again drove back to CB. There isn’t much to say about that trip other than La Quinta allows dogs and that is a good thing.

We did finally go fishing, together and separately. I turned my fly fishing expeditions into blog posts, but they were sporadic at best.

Evans had planned a short trip back to Nashville and I had a girlfriend come to visit. She was a godsend and we had a wonderful time, which of course meant I didn’t write one word while she was there. While Evans was in Nashville, his mother’s breathing again worsened and she went back to the hospital. He, of course, stayed in Nashville until she was better. After my friend left I enjoyed the views and realized how much I prefer Crested Butte when Evans is with me.

While Evans was gone, a friend in Crested Butte convinced me to go hiking. It was a debacle, so that made a great blog post. Then the next day two more friends arrived from Nashville and I was back to having fun, entertaining, dragging them straight up mountains (behind my hiking friend Terri) and eating all the food in Crested Butte. Evans got home one day before they left and took us across Kebler pass to the Crystal Mill and lunch at our favorite Colorado restaurant, Slow Groovin’ Barbecue. I was going to write about their visit, but Evans was finally back in CB so we played instead.

My friends left on Monday and on Thursday I followed them back to Nashville for a wedding. It was an amazing wedding, truly worth the trip home. It may become a blog post but I will have to get permission to share the photos. We had a wonderful time.

While I was home I visited my mother-in-law, who I adore, every day. Her health was fragile, but she was home and stable. Or so I thought. I flew back to Crested Butte early Monday morning and by Monday evening the situation had grown progressively and irrevocably worse. Evans spent much of Tuesday on the phone with his sister and flew home on Wednesday.

I packed the necessities, loaded the truck, downloaded audiobooks from the Nashville Library, and Percy and I headed east. I took a different route that was slightly longer but included all interstates and consistent cell service. Again, there is no way to make that trip interesting unless unexpected things happen and happily nothing did. By late Friday afternoon, the truck, dog, and I were back in Nashville to stay. Harriette died on Monday.

This was not our year to be in Crested Butte. What time we were there was great. I loved our guests. I got to eat at my favorite restaurants. The wildflowers had a super-bloom year and were beautiful well into August. I actually hiked and mastered the roll-cast with my fly rod. But, we needed to come home. We wanted to come home. As hot as it is, we are very glad to be home.

As her health began to worsen, Harriette insisted that Langley take her dog, Dirk, a ten-year-old miniature poodle. You can imagine how Percy, our deaf, diabetic, villain of a Boston Terrier feels about that. I could write an entire book called the Percy/Dirk Diaries. Miraculously, there has yet to be bloodshed, for which we are very thankful.

We are settling back into Nashville and the new normal that comes with losing someone you love. Next summer I will write funny blogs about our mountain escapades. Later this year I will write about Evans’ Aunt Patricia and especially about his wonderful, amazing, much-adored mother Harriette. Theirs are lives to be celebrated, examined, and admired. We will continue to live our lives, not as planned, but as ordained. And, it will almost certainly be awkward, and hopefully fantastic.