Idaho is Calling and I Must Go

Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. The last time I was here, I was around 10 years old. It was beautiful and I had no idea I was living in a core memory of my life.

My grandfather had been wowed by the beauty. Newly retired, that was where he was going to call home-base. He purchased a property on the lake and a cute lil’ home in town. Many years of enjoyment and memories laid ahead.

Until they didn’t.

Within just a few mere years of the Idaho dream, my grandpa suffered a heart attack and left us all abruptly.

It was one of those horrendous shocks of the fragility of life and how everything can turn on a dime.

I never went back to Idaho. Never even entertained the idea of stepping foot in those sacred places again.

I had my memories. Driving on the windiest roads in a huge RV, with my eyes glued out the window. Laughter under the biggest pines I’ve ever seen. Holding hands with my cousins and jumping into the coldest water I’d ever felt. Dancing in the houseboat and drinking way too much soda.

The word “Idaho” always put a little smile on my face. My heart had a fondness for it because of my young experiences but never had I thought I’d be able to experience that exact place with my husband and my children.

But life is sweet. Things come to you and wrap you in warmth when you least expect it. The house and property, still there. And we got to go back to them both this summer.

As I came back, almost 25 years later, I was gripped by the feeling of impermanence. The beach of my core memories, my grandfather’s dream…eaten by the Earth. His sweet little home that held dinners and secret pathways to neighbors houses so they could get to each other quickly, all overgrown and forgotten. A mere 20ish years later and everything was different.

Everything, except for the things that stayed the same.

The smell of the pines against the wooded bedroom on the beach.
The sound of the water crashing on the Idaho rock.
The brisk water, cleansing every cell on my skin.

These things I hadn’t known for over two decades and when I experienced them again, it felt familiar. It felt like family. It felt whole.

I was left in awe of the duality of life. How everything changes in the blink of an eye, while the core of it all remains the same.

No matter how sturdy and solid your life is or how vibrant your plans are, the Earth keeps spinning and it’s gone faster than you can imagine, once we leave this world. The only thing that’s left are the memories and the feelings loved ones carry on. That’s truly it.

I brought back a feeling of utter contentment and inspiration from Coeur d’Alene and a few tears in my eyes from getting to share it all with James and my kiddos.

I could see my grandpa laughing (with only HIS infectious laugh) and giving me a high-five for creating these memories with my family.

What a beautiful, temporary life.