Music is an amazing, albeit sometimes unwanted, trigger for our memories. Well, at least for mine. I guess I shouldn’t speak for everyone. I was just driving from Target back to Jack’s baseball practice when George Strait’s Amarillo By Morning came on. And boy did it trigger. First I felt happy, it’s a great song, and then the tears came. But they weren’t all sad either. Because the memories are happy.

In May, 2008, after 2 short years together, Ash packed up his shit and moved to Durango, CO. In August, 2008, I sold most of my shit, packed what I could in my little Jeep Liberty, grabbed my mom, some Harry Potter books on tape (side note – I hate books on tape. I don’t think we made it through 2 chapters. Fuck a book on tape. No offense intended to those who enjoy them. They just don’t work for me) and hit the road. It was one of those trips I will never forget. I was moving far, far away from my family and everything I’d ever known. I quit a great job. I left amazing friends. But I was moving to something. To something wonderful and awful and perfect and stupid and beautiful and ugly and fun and mundane and just everything (as is the nature of meaningful relationships).

My mom and I are extremely close. So it was only natural that she accompany me on my journey out west (move over Fievel). That and she would have been terrified to send me all on my own! (Ash used to call her worst case scenario Geri because, well, her mind instantly goes to the worst case scenario possible in any given situation, you know it’s true Mama! 😘). Our first stop was Tennessee, where I got pulled over for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Apparently, he couldn’t see where I was from on my license plate (even though it was just one state over and our license plates are pretty distinctive what with either a lighthouse or the Wright flyer on them) so he stopped me to find out. He also had many other questions for me – where I was going? Why I was going? Was I going to college? All sorts of weirdness. I also hit a bird in Tennessee and believe I screamed when I did it! My mom probably thought the poor bird was stuck in the engine which would cause said engine to fail, which would lead to the whole car blowing up, us included. Haha! Just kidding! Sort of!!

Our next stop was Oklahoma City, if I’m remembering correctly. It was a long time ago. We took turns driving. We talked incessantly. We sang (probably off key) our hearts out. Oklahoma City was a little scary, at least where we stayed so we got the hell out of there as fast as possible. We stopped in the small town of Elk City, OK for a quick breakfast. But if we’re really being honest here, we stopped in Elk City because, at the time, we were a wee bit obsessed with bull riding, a wee bit more obsessed with professional bull rider Justin McBride, knew that Elk City was his home town (stalker much?!) and figured we’d certainly run into him because he would obviously be craving an egg McMuffin at 6:30 in the morning at the same time as us. I’m guessing we probably just missed each other by a few minutes. But, much to our hearts’ dismay, we did not catch even a glimpse of him.

When we got back on the highway, I think my mom was driving, Amarillo By Morning came on the radio just as we passed a highway sign for Amarillo and the miles left. I screeched (because that’s what I do, I’m a screecher and a woo girl and I am not ashamed). I thought it was pretty ironically cool that Amarillo by Morning just happened to be playing as we passed the highway sign indicating how far Amarillo was from our location and that we would in fact be traveling through Amarillo just that morning.

I was so excited to get to Ash we drove straight through from Oklahoma City to Durango. I can’t remember how long it took. But I do remember knocking on Ash’s door, I was wearing gym shorts, an old white t shirt and tennis shoes, he opened the door, we shared an awkward, somewhat uncomfortable hug (it had been months since we’d actually seen each other) and he told me I’d never looked more beautiful. We moved inside, into my new studio apartment that I was sharing with this boy that I couldn’t help but love, and we, let’s just say, reacquainted, ahem, ourselves in the closet while my mom took a shower (sorry Mama).

I haven’t thought about that journey in a long time. Hearing that song this evening brought it all back (ok, not all because it was a long time ago and I’m not as young as I used to be). And thinking about it now brings back so much. So much that I don’t even know how to put it into words. Ash always pushed me. To be brave. To take the leap. To go on the adventure. And while his adventures were cut short, mine are still going. His spirit, his passion, his love will always live inside of me, pushing me, as always, to live. As he would have lived. Well, maybe not exactly but pretty darn close.