Once upon a time Dwight and I visited the Valley of Fire. I believe it was in September and fall had started in Arkansas. That visit temperatures were over 100 degrees before 8am. Hiking was difficult and we kept our visit short but I vowed to visit again and see the wave. I did.
I don't think there's a city in the world like Las Vegas. It's big, diverse, and full of lights and surprises. To get there, I took a plane, tram, bus, and taxi. While there, I can't tell you how many Ubers were taken. I can't tell you how many tears were cried or how badly I needed this trip. I needed to get away. I needed to feel the love of my sisters and my favorite aunt. They gave me permission to cry, rant, and cut loose. I was reminded that this grief thing is all to new and real and it's ok to feel the way I do. We caught up on family gossip. Made plans for the future and mourned the passing of my mom's sister Robyn. We partied on Freemont street. Ventured to the Valley of fire. Watched a Michael Jackson show. Caught another show at the sphere. Watched the fountains at the Bellagio and visited their Botanical gardens. Walked the strip and took a spin on the ferris wheel. We played t shirt roulette and dressed up for Halloween. Every night we gathered around a table and shared stories, concerns, and maybe a drink or two. Lots of hugs given and more memories made. All to honor Mom's 10th heavenly birthday. I know she watched over us. Always our angel.
