The end of July has always been a special time for us. There’s a lull in kids’ activities, our anniversary, and time to let the RV stretch its wheels. We travel the country like an old retired couple (plus four school-aged children).

Today, we should be pulling into Grand Teton National Park and then onto Yellowstone next week. The campsites were reserved last year to get the coveted “full hookup” glamping spots within the boundaries of the parks. This weekend’s spot was a short walk from Jackson Lake at the base of the sharp Tetons, and next week’s was on the shore of Yellowstone Lake with frequent reports of wildlife freely roaming through the campground in the mornings. It was going to be epic.

Hiking to crystal-clear, cool lakes high in the mountains and watching the kids jump in.

Taking in geysers and wildlife, rodeos and campfires.

Scratching off Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming (again) from the U.S. travel map on our wall.

Adding a few more stamps to Jason’s National Park Passport book.

But, now we’re not.

Instead, I’m hiking the concrete trail that runs through our backyard and down to the ditch behind Menards. I’m watching for dogs and rabbits instead of bison and bears. I’m watching corn come out of the ground instead of mountains. And I’m thinking of selling the RV instead of “Where to next?”

It hurts to let dreams go.

Still, my family is with me, and even nature continues to surround me. That’s what I wanted from the trip any way, right? It’s just different now.

Everything is different now.

“You have given me greater joy.” Psalm 4:7a