The HuntFishTravel Show

As we cruise along I-90 headed west for a Fourth of July camping trip in the Black Hills, I find myself watching the prairie blur past and feeling something I haven’t felt in a while.

Gratitude.

This year has been a rough one. Four days after we got back from Florida and took a sixteen hundred dollar hit on a new hot water heater, life threw a curveball we never saw coming. In March, we suddenly found ourselves with emergency custody of Aaron’s kids. No prep. No warning. Just one day we were two adults enjoying a life of travel spontaneity and daily routine and the next we were full-time guardians navigating court dates and classroom enrollments and teenage meltdowns.

Aaron is still waiting for a hearing to stop child support payments to an arrangement that no longer exists. That means tight finances, long nights, and a whole lot of adjusting for everyone. These kids have had their world flipped upside down and we have done our best to offer something steady and a structured lifestyle that sets them up for success.

All this while I quietly dealt with losing my beloved horse. I was gone when it happened, thousands of miles away and I never got the chance to say goodbye. That grief hit hard but got buried under everything else. Life does not slow down for mourning.

To be honest, the second quarter of 2025 felt like playing dodgeball, blindfolded, with live grenades. Chaos does not even begin to cover it.

But through all of it, Aaron never stopped showing up. He went above and beyond to help his daughter graduate and launch into the next chapter of her life without any sense of gratitude in return. He got his son set up for a fresh start in a new school, joined football camp, and helped create a home where his children can grow and thrive.

We went down to Missouri to pick up Aaron’s middle son for the summer, his mom is always kind enough to drive and meet Aaron half way. Life has not been easy for that kid either. He recently lost his former stepdad in a tragic accident and is carrying the kind of grief no thirteen-year-old should ever have to shoulder. Watching him try to smile through the weight of that loss breaks my heart in ways I cannot always explain

In a strange twist of fate, his mom recently purchased her own house in northern Arkansas, just an hour from where my own mom lives. Of all the places she could have ended up, she landed right there. It is one of those small-world moments that makes you pause. And even though life has been complicated, she is doing such a great job raising him and it was good to see him get out of the truck with a smile on his face and a duffel bag full of summer plans.

Now here I am, laptop balanced on my knees, typing while Aaron taps his fingers to some dramatic European power metal (you’re welcome babe) and mile marker one seventy one rolls by. I glance over at this man who has walked through fire with me. Who has faced every hard day head-on. I see two incredible boys in the backseat who have stolen my heart and made me a bonus mom, something I never expected to be or even wanted to be until now (thank you babe).

And we are on our way to one of my absolute favorite places on earth.

We are going to sleep under the stars. Watch fireworks burst over an open mine. Ride ATVs through the Black Hills. Eat steak and potatoes under the pines at Blue Bell Lodge’s Chuckwagon Cookout. Sit in silence. Laugh until we cry. Make memories that will outlive every hard moment that brought us here.

My heart is sore, but my soul is full.

Sometimes the wildest detours lead you right where you are supposed to be.

Added post-publish.