H and I headed north to Alberta last month. (Apparently, we have a thing for road tripping.) Ostensibly, this trip was a much needed holiday for him, but we also thought it would be a good time to catch up with some family and friends. We were looking forward to laying eyes on 2 of our 3 kiddos, to see them settled into their new digs and routines, as well as to visit with extended family in the area. All of that happened, and more. We spent time in the city, time on the prairie, and some unexpected-but-sublime time in the mountains. And at the end of ten or so days, we rolled away feeling incredibly grateful for all of it.

One particular day stands out, and it's one I am challenged to put words to. En route to visiting our favourite cowboy, we took the long way via a place {literally} called Faraway. It had been ten plus years since any of us had visited, though it was a place we frequented often in the many years leading up to that mark. It's a place that holds too many memories to count and (not unexpectedly), a ghost or two greeted us. We walked, and talked, and shared a few tears along with all the memories that made us laugh. One of us even rode. (It was short but ohhh so sweet.) And we wished for those who had been a part of that doesn't-feel-so-long-ago time to be with us here and now. And indeed, in all the ways that really matter, they were...she was. I could hear their voices...her voice...carried on the wind and at every single turn. It was gut-wrenching and heart-filling all at once.

As we piled into the vehicle at the end of the visit, we unanimously agreed that taking the long way through and to Faraway was worth it...always had been, always would be.

'Four strong winds that blow lonely, | Seven seas that run high, | All those things that don't change, | Come what may.' (Ian Tyson)