Chapter 4: The Roads that led me back to myself

Chapter 4: The Roads That Led Me Back to Myself

Coming home to Colorado after the California years felt familiar, but I wasn’t the same girl who had left. I carried the coast inside me now—the independence, the confidence, the quiet knowing that I could build a life anywhere.

Responsibility found me quickly. I stepped into home care for the elderly, learning a different kind of strength—one rooted in patience, compassion, and the quiet act of showing up. It was sacred work, steady work, and it shaped me in ways adventure never could.

Around this time, I fell in love with Basenjis—those ancient, clever little dogs with minds of their own. Raising them became its own chapter. Their independence, their fire, their stubborn loyalty… I understood them. They eventually took me to Missouri for a year, where I learned a different rhythm of life before deciding it was time to come home.

I moved back to Colorado—back to the ranch my mom and dad were managing—trying to find my footing again. I had only been home for about two and a half months when everything changed.

My dad passed away.

The world didn’t just tilt—it collapsed. Losing him felt like losing the compass I’d carried since childhood. He was the one who taught me the language of horses, the one whose quiet strength shaped the way I moved through the world. Without him, I felt unanchored, drifting, trying to find myself in the middle of grief and transition.

For a while, I was lost.

And maybe that’s why the rodeo life called to me the way it did. Working for the legendary Harry Vold Rodeo Company wasn’t just a job—it was a connection back to him. My dad had sold horses to Harry Vold. He had known that world, lived in that dust, breathed that adrenaline. Stepping into that life felt like stepping into a place where his presence still lingered.

It didn’t heal everything. But it gave me something familiar to hold onto while I learned how to stand again.

The rodeo years were loud and gritty and unforgettable. Early mornings, late nights, hauling stock across state lines, helping behind the chutes, learning trick riding, training my own mustang horse, and feeling the rush of trust between horse and human. It was a world built on toughness and tradition, and it carved a permanent place in my story.

Looking back, it all weaves together: the caregiving, the Basenjis, the Missouri detour, the grief, the CNA years, the rodeo life. Every piece shaped me. Every road led me back to myself.

Colorado grounded me.

California expanded me.

And this chapter—this wild, hardworking, heart-led chapter—revealed the woman I was becoming.

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