Surprisingly enough, the title of this post does not stem from my lack of blogging over the past couple of years, but rather from something I noticed while driving home from Provo tonight. I've lived in Utah since 2008. Usually when people ask, I'll say I've lived here on and off since 2008, but really, well, I might as well just accept I've pretty much been here for almost six years. After my first year here I tried to move home for the summer, but I was there for a grand total of three weeks before Utah was snatching me back again. And again, after my mission, I swore off Utah for life, and well, I guess this is where I'm supposed to be for now. It has become home to me, and I'm even finding myself increasingly OK with saying that.
During the time I've lived here, I have, for one reason or another, always seemed to have a reason to frequently travel the stretch of I-15 that connects Utah Valley to Salt Lake Valley. When I lived in Provo, there was always a reason to travel north, and now that I live north, it's easy to find reasons to travel south. Not nearly as often now as it used to be, but it is still frequently enough. Some parts of the drive have changed significantly over the years. It's gone from three lanes of congested freeway, to road-rage inducing construction zone, to wide open freeway where people insist on driving 50 mph across all five lanes of traffic. Other aspects of the drive haven't really changed at all. The exits come like clock work. For a while I made the drive often enough that I knew the average time it would take me to get from on exit to the next, and I knew that in order to make the "estimated time to" that they display on the over head signs in the middle of the night when there is no traffic, I had to drive exactly 7 miles over the speed limit. It's all routine. I could probably make that drive in my sleep, and to be honest, I can't say for certain that I never have ( I've driven it at some pretty unreasonable times of the night/morning).
But what really got my attention tonight on the way home was a particular sign. A sign for the Utah Valley Auto Mall. It's not really a very noteworthy sign, except that when I first started driving between the two valleys, I viewed it as an almost home beacon. (I later came to realize that it was in fact, not as close to home as I originally made myself believe.) Nevertheless, it was at the time a fully functioning, and lit beacon of hope for my often way too tired body. Over the years, I've watched as one by one the letters have burnt out. Tonight I drove by, in the dark, for the first time in a few months, and noticed that now, only a single letter on each side of the sign is lit. 1/18 letters...
And that's when it hit me... I'm getting old. Go to bed early so I can get my sleep and knit while I watch TV kind of old. I guess at least I'm not yet as old and burnt out as that poor Utah Valley Auto Mall sign. I guess I'll have to see if my old lady life can provide enough of interest to maintain an interesting blog for any substantial period of time.
