I’m sure you have questions. And I’d love to talk about what happened. Hit me back when you can.
Each time I hit send my stomach tightens and it’s like I’m a teenager again, staying up and waiting for the girl to call me back. It’s pathetic. But I’m not above it. I would sit there all day if I could, staring at my phone, but instead I push myself up. Opening my closet, I grab my duffel bag from the floor. The faint scent of campfire and pine clings to the fibers as I throw it onto my bed.
Typically, I’m an avid packer, laying out my items weeks in advance and checking off each on a predetermined packing list, but this time I haven’t even done laundry. Fumbling through my dresser, I make do with what I have, tossing a few pairs of shorts, a couple of t-shirts, and some outerwear items onto my bed. I roll each item tightly for the best space efficiency, and head to the closet to grab the tailored tan suit I’m required to wear for the ceremony. The drab color and starched collar make me throw my purple floral Vans that I love but my mom hates in the suitcase too.
When I’m done, I set my bag by the door, doing a final walk-through of my room before I hear my phone buzz. I practically dive for it, hope blooming in my chest.
“Hey,” I say, answering it without looking.
“Ready for your trip?” my father asks, his husky voice muffled by the sound of printers and chattering in the office.
“Just finished packing,” I admit, a dead giveaway of my frantic mental state.
“Really?” he asks, concerned. “I’d assumed your suitcase would be sitting by the door since last week.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t really been looking forward to this trip. You’d think destination weddings would be banned as a form of corporal punishment.”
“I can still get you on our flight to Peru if you want,” he says, the same offer he’s given me all month. And for a second I consider it. Maybe wallowing in Machu Picchu wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“Mom will only make my life hell if I don’t go,” I reason, knowing that she’d probably come track me down and put me on a plane back to Wyoming herself if I didn’t show up.
Growing up, my mother and I didn’t have the best relationship. While I took after my dad, who enjoyed quiet mornings reading and afternoon bird-watching, my mother preferred shopping for designer goods, scheduling lavish spa experiences, and pretending to be better than everyone else around her. Unlike other moms who made an effort to be involved in their child’s life, mine never baked brownies for my bake sale or offered to chaperone any of my field trips. Hell, she wouldn’t even drive me to seeThe Lord of the Rings because the showtime interfered with her standing nail appointment.
So, when my parents got divorced, I hoped that she’d just forget about me, leave me behind as a product of her old life, but she insisted on including me in her new family.
Instead of spending my summers with my dad, traveling the country to find the best hiking trails for Elite Elevation, I was stuck at my mother’s house on Lake Norman. And she and George would go off to dinner parties, or charity events, or weekend rejuvenationretreats, and I would be left to deal with my annoying, machismo stepbrother, who even though he was two years younger than me was determined to make my life a living hell.
“If you change your mind, the flight’s nine-thirty. I know the team would love to have our best content creator there.”
“You really need to hire an in-house photographer,” I argue, for the millionth time. “Phone photos, no matter how advanced the technology becomes, will never beat a real camera.”
“That can be your first order of business.”
“Right, because hiring a full-time content creator is always on the top of the transition docket.”
“If you think it’s important, then it should be,” he says confidently.
I always knew that I was going to work for my dad’s company, not only because it was expected of me but because I genuinely love its mission. Providing a community for nature lovers to connect, to developing technology to make camping and exploring accessible for all, and traveling the world to promote environmental conservation. It’s my dream job. But come Monday, I won’t just be an employee, I’ll be the head of the company. And even through the rigorous training process and assurances that he’ll always be there if I need anything, I don’t feel ready.
“I know you’re nervous, but I have complete faith in you. You’ve always treated everything with care and respect, and I trust you’re going to do that with Elite.”
“You know, I wouldn’t be offended if you decide retirement doesn’t suit you. I’ll happily go right back to product development.”
“Please,” my father chuckles. “After spending the last twenty years watching our customers experience the world, I’m excited to go out there and experience it for myself.”
Although he’s hiked some of the most breathtaking trails in the world, I know that my dad wants to actually immerse himself in thewild; instead of having to bring a hotspot and satellite phone with him everywhere he goes in case there’s a work emergency he has to deal with. And more than anyone he deserves that.
I hear his assistant calling for him in the background.
“Look, Huds, I gotta run. But tell the Tetons hello for me?”
“Will do, Dad,” I say as he ends the call.
And although I should be worried about how I’m going to run one of the top outdoor equipment companies in the world or spending the next four days with my ex, my mom, and my stepfamily, all I can think about is Mira.
5 Hudson
The winding Wyoming roads glimmer underneath a sky of shimmering stars, and the blue-hued horizon lines are the picture of peace, but I can’t appreciate any of it. Between flight delays, picking up my rental car, and my incessant need to check my phone, my anxiety is at an all-time high.
