Today’s journey was to Thermopolis, home of the World’s Largest Hot Springs. I really don’t think it’s the world’s largest, but I’m not going to argue! Thermopolis’s high school was my high school’s main rival. We usually beat them at everything.
It was an easy trip there. We walked around to look at the hot springs, which I really enjoy a lot. I took a trip along the Shakey Bridge (it’s called something else, but that’s what my family referred to it). When then toured the dinosaur museum, which was really cool to visit. If you do happen to visit Thermopolis, Wyoming, I recommend eating at The One-Eyed Buffalo. It was delicious. Later in the evening, we spent time with my brother and his family. All in all, a very good day, again!
It’s so interesting to me how memories get triggered. Today, most of the events were fairly neutral. Like, we drove by the old library, and I remembered how wonderful it was to spend my lunch time there as a middle school student. And how they would have summer reading programs. And where I started reading real, adult books as an elementary school student. And on, and on, and on… Which is obviously why I read so much and enjoy writing stories!
But we did take a little detour past my parent’s house, now sold to new owners, and near the house where my perpetrator lived. It’s changed so much that it’s hardly recognizable to me. And the memories, although they are vivid at times, have become just another part of who I am. Before, I let those memories and that label of “victim” identify me, for a long time. Now, the memory has become just that, something in the past that I’ve dealt with, and more importantly learned (and still learning) from.
If I were to summarize my trip so far and the people that I’ve reconnected with, I’d have to say that there is a purpose in everything God does. Things have shaped me, and I’ve taken the choices that He has laid before me, and I’ve done a good job at creating the person I believe He wants me to be. I’m nowhere near done, but I’m at least beginning to enjoy the process.
Harry L. Estes 