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This was written last summer but I held off on publishing it. I was still trying to figure out how to sleep at night and writing helped to pass the time in a constructive way. The loss of Lauren and Jay has truly reminded me that life is precious and not to take tomorrow for granted. The smallest kindnesses can have a huge effect on someone so always be kind. I will always miss them.

I woke up on my 30th birthday grateful to be alive. I never imagined I’d spend my birthday at my friend’s memorial service but that’s how life goes sometimes. I know that her murder was a random event, it could’ve been anyone that day on that road, and it could’ve happened anywhere. I woke up on my 30th birthday with the knowledge that I was lucky. I spent the day driving through the Joshua tree filled desert, through the wide open valley where my food is grown, through the dry dusty hills of wine country. Eventually I hit the Pacific Ocean and began to feel alive again.

I went to sleep on my 30th birthday with a half moon rising, and the sun setting into the calm blue of the Pacific. The stars slowly appeared and two huge shooting stars fell into the sea. I gazed at the stars knowing that these were the same stars that Lauren and Jay gazed at as they fell asleep each night; the same stars that my great-grandparents saw as they dreamed of a better life in the US.

I filled my pack with 24 hours worth of water before I began the ascent out of the canyon and up to Cone Peak. Every step took away a bit more of my breath until I had to stop to recharge. Anytime I found a patch of shade I would stop to cool off a bit. As I struggled up the steep dusty trail with my heavy pack cutting into my shoulders I reminded myself of the privilege I had being there. By the grace of God I had managed to survive thirty years on Earth. I had a job that allowed me to take the time I needed to mourn. I had freedoms that women in other parts of the world can only dream about. I had the means and the education to live in and explore a part of the world that is so beautiful and inspiring that people save for years in order to travel here. I continued my struggle up, stopping frequently to catch my breath and relieve my shoulders while trying to evade the sun.

The views from the top did not disappoint. The mountain housed the old fire lookout tower for the area and from the deck of the lookout I could see for miles in every direction. I stood at the intersection of the ocean, desert, and forest. Each time I turned ninety degrees I was presented with a different landscape. As the sun set the shadow of the mountain grew over the valley to the east and the sea to the west was set ablaze.

I gazed at the stars all night. There were no clouds and it was the most star filled sky I had seen since my night at Capitol Reef in Utah. I drifted in and out of sleep while the stars drifted across the sky. Completely exposed atop the mountain I woke to the sun rising over the horizon. I napped until it was so high that I was roasting under my quilt. I stashed my bedding in my pack, made a tuna sandwich, then started the twelve mile descent. My legs, unaccustomed to long descents, were jelly by the time I reached the bottom. They would rebel for the next week, unhappy that I had stressed them so much by bounding down the mountain.

Nearly five years ago I came to Big Sur and knew that I made the right decision in moving to California. At that time I had no idea what my California adventure would look like. I didn’t know where I would be at the end of the decade. I went to sleep two days after my 30th birthday confident that I had made all the right decisions but fully aware that ultimately I have no real control over my own fate.