*sigh*

I'm worried about my grandpa. He's not doing so well.

Every summer growing up, my family and I would pack ourselves into our Volkswagen van (the blue ox) and travel 6 hours through southern Idaho to see my grandparents. Six hours isn't so much now, but when you're a kid, it's ages! Especially when the only interesting point during the trip is Arco, home of the first nuclear power plant. Once, in a desperate attempt to subdue us kids (there's four of us, I'm the youngest), we actually stopped and got the tour. In our anticipation at arriving at Driggs, we would see who could spot the Tetons first. (Quit laughing, Kadra.)

During those trips, Grandpa would take us fishing on the Teton river in his big red boat. Once, a fish jumped in! (I am NOT lying!) We'd go hiking up Cascade Canyon, and have lime freezes at drugstore that my uncle owned (now his daughter, cousin Sally, owns it). We'd make trips over to Yellowstone and watch Old Faithful, and look for elk and moose and buffalo. Every night as we ate dinner, Grandma would encourage us to eat everything, or we'd "be eating it for breakfast!" She always had raspberry freezer jam, and Grandpa would make "flapjacks." Other family would stop by, like Aunt Joyce (my mom's sister, who is a journalist and very funny). We'd have barbeques in the backyard in the brick oven, and play badminton by the lilacs, and go on drives up to see the ghost towns across the valley.

I haven't been to Driggs in a few years. While I was at BYU, I often drove up for Thanksgiving with a cousin or two, or I'd go visit during the summer. The last time I was there might have been when I graduated, three years ago. That's the longest time I've ever gone without seeing Driggs or Teton Valley or my grandparents, and I miss them.