I wish I journaled more to remember the individual little moments that will go forgotten in time. Although I was present for them I wish they lived in chicken scratch writing on the back of my leather-bound journal destined to collect dust in some box in the backspace of my closet. I want to remember the days so hard to relive them would be comical. I don’t care to remember the puncheon we built in the Anaconda-Piltner wilderness. I want to remember whining constantly to Ryan because Priscilla wasn’t there. I want to remember the misery that only laughter could cure when you worked in freezing rain and snow all day your limbs hurt to move but moving was the only way to stay warm. However, after your 8th time of asking yourself why you choose this work, you looked up and saw how the snow glistened and contrasted the emerald green of the moss and lichen. I remember crying because of the beauty that wouldn’t be the first time this season either. I want to remember Chris with a smile on his face, wearing soaking wet Carhart’s because his tent leaked and toppled over because of the snow. I want to remember working with a group of people so resilient they couldn’t be broken. I want to remember how hot sauce tasted so good that I drank it straight. I want to remember hitch food, hitch poo’s, and hitch farts there nothing like it. I want to remember the comfort found within discomfort.