# the vore-tex

It’s been roughly 6800 minutes since Sean and Wallis left. Give or take a few.

When I was little and somewhere away from home having fun, I was like any other little kid in throwing a fit when it was time to leave. My parents’ mantra,”If you don’t leave nice, you don’t get to come back,” whispered to me during frowns, screams and right-foot stomps, still haunts me. Like the little halo-clad angel sitting on your shoulder that you so badly want to ignore. So, last Sunday, I let two of my favorite people in the world leave nice…with the hopes that they’d come back.

I try very hard not to take for granted that, as adults, we have now had two summers with our some of our oldest and dearest friends. It’s the rarest treat and oddest of coincidences that we are all together in such a small town in the mountains, but I’m not questioning any of it.

This summer looked a lot different than last year’s when we had just arrived in Utah, when our days were spent at the pool avoiding the sea of boxes that needed to be unpacked. This year I had a job, and the three of them were constantly in rehearsals or performances. Sundays were our only day we could all be together. A day when almost everything in Utah is closed. But, no matter. We were livin’ the dream.

Here are a few of our Sunday highlights: