It's been one of those days

Part of being away rocks: new culture, new food, new friends, new country. But part of it, the part that means you are an ocean away when someone back home dies, the part of it that means that when you have a really crap day and want to call and cry to your sister, or the part that means that you count the days till going home when you really wish you were counting the days you still go to stay... that part isn't so great.

Growing up in Steamboat means that every time there is a death, which seems to be far too frequently, it hits home. Literally. Either you knew the person, or you know their family and friends. Today I found out that the brother of a boy in my grade died. So all those memories of the deaths we had in high school, middle school, in our families and in our community come right back. And if it isn't you that lost a loved one, you feel for them just as much because at some point in the recent past, that was you. And you spend each day thanking God that everyone you love is alive. That is how we grow up. That is the bittersweet side of a small town: you have the support and the suffering of each person in the community.

So tonight I don't really have a funny story to tell, or something happy to report about being in Spain. Tonight is one of those "I wish I was home" nights; in part, because Steamboat lost Brad Bonner today, and in part because it's been one of those all around crawl in bed and eat chocolate kind of days. Instead, I am settling for some Nyquil and setting my alarm for eight am to drag myself to Spanish. And then I will head to Barcelona for the weekend, and on Sunday I will have at least one funny story for you, along with a ton of pictures. And I will be counting my blessings: the people in my life, the journey I am on, the trip I will take tomorrow, and I will be sending lots of love and prayers to Steamboat.