I am not alone

No man is an Island. No man stands alone. At least, no man should. And this weekend, I learned that I don't.

I went, of all places, to Island Park, Idaho. It's between Rexberg and West Yellowstone, though much closer to Yellowstone. I went with seven other ladies around my age (I'm actually on the young side of the crowd, though we're all within five years of each other), only one of them married. Two others do have boyfriends, but they're old enough that I forgive them. It was the best experience.

I wish I had pictures to illustrate, but I didn't take a single photo. I will get them though, because there were many pictures taken, I just don't have them.

Anyway, we went to Idaho Falls Thursday night and stayed at Lani's parents' house. Her mom is the typical, wonderful Idaho mom, welcoming, accomodating, kind, cheerful, funny. We put our stuff away, chatted a while, then got in the hot tub under a sky on fire with stars. At this point of the trip I barely knew any of the girls, and was not sure what I had gotten myself into. I'm very much in this mindset that Provo people (Orem is close enough) are all a certain way and I want to find another way of people. they hadn't quite broken through that mentality yet.

They were funny though, and I noticed that right away. I just was sick of talking about boys and what we want in boys and why we don't have boys and so on and so forth. It had come up a time or two on the drive up. But the hot tub was delightful, and Idaho was as familiar and beautiful as it always is, and reminded me yet again how potoato country flows in my blood and I might not be able to escape it. Everything was green and crisp and fresh. We slept in the Star Wars room, while the others took the Hawaii room.

Had a wonderful breakfast in the morning, loaded our stuff, went shopping at Wal-mart, then set off with two four-wheelers for the cabin at Island Park. By this point, I am fairly convinced that these are some of the funniest girls I've been around in a long time. But I am still on the outskirts.

We do not really listen to music on any of the drives. This sometimes drives me crazy. But instead, everyone kept asking questions about everyone else, so we all talked and shared stories and got to know one another. We made it past the loose toe-straps, Lani got the truck and trailor up the death hill of unsurpasses narrowness, and we unloaded the four-wheelers, feeling very empowered and "handy" because we were all girls accomplishing these things.

The weekend was full. We went right away with canoes down to the Henry Fork of the Snake River, and floated peacefully and gently along, with only a few squirmishes on the trip, mainly due to really shallow spots or fiendish rowers seeking excitment. No one tipped though, so I had to jump in all by myself at the end of the trip.

That night we talked, ate dinner, and I attempted to brag about my fire making skills. Until about three hours into it when we still had no fire. No real fire. To be honest, and to try to rid myself of the shame, as soon as I had a little fledgling fire going, someone stacked four huge round logs on it, none of us knowing how incredibly wet these logs were. By the time I realized we would have to start over, I knew everyone else was done waiting for fire and had lost all confidence in my skills, making it even more impossible for me to make it. We did enlist the help of a frozen lasagna package and gasoline, but were still unable to get this soaking wood to light. So we roasted starbursts and smores around a smoking, pathetic fire with no heat, then went in and got giggly.

Okay this journal entry is getting long. I just wanted to say it was a great time. The next day we went four-wheeling down to Big Springs, and I saw meese! I had asked nature to show us meese and otter the day before on the river, and figured the bird shadow flying over me had been a good omen saying it would happen. It did! 4-wheeling we saw two baby, maybe year old meesen eating trees on the side of the road. Cool.

We talked and ate and ate and ate, played games, and went into West to eat, buy cool jackets, and see the Playmill present Beauty and the Beast (Belle actually commented on how cute my new jacket was). The play was awesome and hilarious, the conversation equally so, and all around I just realized that there are many girls my age still single, and we rock. I have felt so alone, and without friends, since my friends went away or moved on with life, but this was wonderful and I made new friends, and they certainly got to know me better than most people know me on this short little trip. There was butt-grabbing and boob talk and sharing of past boyfriends, and talking of future goals, and hopes and worries, and testimonies, and missions (we were all returned missionaries) and it was just a wonderful reminder that people are amazing.

And that I need people. As I thought about coming home to my basement apartment that I never leave, and the aloneness of my life, I thought how nice it would be to have a family. How nice to have those wonderful people
I just had surrounding me all weekend, be a part of my life everyday, that I came home to and called and did things with and kicked out of the bathroom. It made me all the more determined to make that happen somehow. And all the more grateful for all my friends that do give meaning to my life and remind me how great life can be. If you are reading this, you are probably one of those people, so thank you.

I love you. And you are not alone.