Wide Open Spaces

"Where are you going?" someone asks. "I'm moving to Blanding," I say. Invariably the corners of my mouth twitch upward and often, I break out into a full grin or chuckle. Blanding. A remote location in southeastern Utah; at least four hours from anywhere. "Why?" they say with a hint of real concern mixed with the surprise. What could possibly posses me to mover there? A valid, if not good and puzzling question. I am 24, freshly graduated from BYU, and completely unknown to anyone in that southeast edge of life. (Although, I know all sorts of people related to someone's cousin's roommate who grew up there. I am on strict command to find and befriend Truman and Aida, the Palmers, and I don't remember who else...) So the question remains: why would I make such a venture? As anti-climactic as it sounds... I don't know. I really don't. I could tell you all the gory details of meeting Kip at the BYU teacher fair, driving down in a snowstorm to interview, the internal moral dilemma that hovered conference weekend as I was given three days to decide. The nitty gritty of it is that I am thrilled to be escaping the land of Walmarts. Wide open spaces. A place out west. A small town that will drift off to sleep around nine. A blanket made of stars. Oh it sounds good to me! Ok ok, so the romantic ideals of the Dixie Chicks may not be the most valid reasons, but there is a ribbon of truth to it. I am going to be the 11th and 12th grade English teacher in a small town off the Indian reservations and just up from the four corners. I am taking a step into the dark, a giant leap of faith. I am breaking the mold of expectations and creating my own. I ultimately have no clue what I am getting myself into. It will be my own little adventure.