I spent the last day of my twenties hiking down a sandstone ridge to the Colorado River with a paddle in hand and a packraft in my backpack. Jaden and I descended around 750 feet down an exposed “trail” so we could float the last fifteen miles of Glen Canyon to Lee’s Ferry, having no idea that eight months later we’d have permits from the National Park Service to guide tours down that stretch of river.

We spent the day paddling through mirrored reflections of red rock and blue sky, in awe. The current is lazy, so we tied our boats together and took turns reading aloud from Katie Lee’s book All My Rivers Are Gone.

Guiding tours down that stretch of river wasn’t a dream, a goal or even an option then. The permit didn’t open until summer 2026, and it was the first time that permit opened in over 25 years.

At this time last year, we spent my 30th birthday grinding our teeth and cursing the government. We’d spent all summer building our business, Pronghorn Expeditions, working on perfecting all the paperwork requirements for our hiking permit application. Giddy, we turned it in, expecting to start in mid October around my birthday.

Instead, the government shut down for 43 days, the longest shutdown in the United State’s history. A rather unimpressive record to break.

We spent last year’s birthday waiting. Wondering what life would look like in a year. Hoping our permits would be approved. Wishing for a successful business.

This year, I barely had time to celebrate my birthday in between two back to back Pronghorn trips on the river. I hosted my first writing retreat, which was a smashing success and a dream come true, sandwiched by a week of teaching 3rd/4th grade at the elementary school, followed by another weekend trip in partnership with the Glen Canyon Institute.

A smile creeps across my face when I think about myself floating down the river last year, entering my 30s, having no clue that only one year later I’d be exhausted from back to back river tours.

Some dreams are worked for, hard-earned, and gritty while others fall into place and we just have to trust ourselves enough to say yes, let’s do it.

Paddleboards, life jackets, and dry bags weren’t part of our original budget, but my gut said yes.

We’ve spent a joyous four months floating through sandstone walls on the slow moving current with guests from Virginia, Alaska, Colorado, Vermont, Utah, and California.

Being a guide in Glen Canyon, hiking or paddleboarding, is a dream come true. An honor. A blessing. A beautiful opportunity.

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I turned 31 and went to work for ten hours.

It was one of those days where the kids acted like gremlins and I had to use my serious voice to say things like, “Stop kicking him right now, we do not hit our friends, no it is not okay to take his pencil and break it in half, yes we do have school tomorrow and did you just say his momma is a hamburger?”

(Yes, your momma jokes are still used as insults and hamburger is slang for fat, apparently).

I was feeling grumpy at the nonsense until the end of the day when I invited my whole class to my birthday party. While they wiped the boogers off their table with a Clorox wipe, I went outside and put my birthday party outfit on: a bright yellow banana suit. I placed a ripe banana for each of the kids on the tables.

When they turned the corner and saw me standing there as a banana, their mouths hung open. One kid started giggling manically and another kid broke out of line and sprinted toward me with his arms out. Others followed suit and we had an epic group hug. Seeing this actually brought tears to my eyes and I was happy to be wearing sunglasses.

The group hug was short lived because so many kids were screaming, jumping up and down and running toward the table. They held the bananas over their heads and acted like hungry gorillas.

I told three different kids, “We don’t use bananas as guns at school, but great job using your imagination.”

Only one kid asked the real question on all of their minds: “Where’s the cupcakes?”

I didn’t bring cupcakes. Y’all are crazy enough without the extra sugar.

But a parent surprised me with flowers and brought ice cream for the whole class. They were really just going to get bananas. She saved the day for the kids and made my day too.

Kid love and craziness is a certain kind of chaos I adore. I hope they’ll remember their teacher throwing a banana themed birthday.

Being a full time teacher while running a business also wasn’t something I was dreaming of or planning to do. It was another opportunity that fell into my lap and my gut said, “Take it.”

I’m so glad I get to guide local kids through school and Glen Canyon on our highly anticipated field trip days.

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When I got home that day, I walked in the front door as a banana to Jaden playing Lizzo’s “Birthday Girl” song. After a short dance party in the living room with the dogs jumping on me, we went out for our usual evening walk.

More surprises were in store for me. Jaden spent the day burying scavenger hunt clues in the sand for me! I needed a compass to navigate to the next clue. In my head I thought oh my god is Jaden proposing right now?!

I played it cool, obviously. Cool as a cucumber. Didn’t say anything. Sprinted toward the next clue though. The hunt concluded at a locked ammo can, and I had to put the clues together to find the combination.

Inside the box was something shiny…

Tinfoil.

Wrapped inside the tinfoil was homemade cookies. My favorite. Chocolate crinkle cookies.

“I thought a ring was going to be in here!” I said.

“Oh, shit,” Jaden said. A moment of stillness hung in the air between us before we both started cracking up.

He explained why there was no ring. I grew up obsessed with watching Gilmore Girls and return to it often as my comfort show. He graciously sat through an episode or two.

Jaden remembered watching the episode where Logan proposed to Rory on her graduation. He remembered me saying, “Pretty boy jerk! Ruining her big moment! Just celebrate her graduation, dude!”

He remembered me ranting about how proposals should happen on random Tuesdays with no holiday, birthday, or other life event in sight so ten years later there’s a reason to look forward to an arbitrary April 7th.

He remembered that and I couldn’t help but think damn, he really is the one for me.

It was a birthday worth celebrating, which isn’t something I take for granted.

Four birthdays ago I spent the entire day alone, crying, grieving my late partner. Three birthdays ago I wasn’t celebrating either, still associating the fall with the loss of Ian. Instead of wishing me a “Happy” Birthday, I asked people to say, “Fuck Your Birthday” instead. That felt more appropriate for a while.

But now, the happy has returned to my birthday and I thank everyone who was a part of making this week special for me.

Thanks for reading.

Yours truly,

Banana Beth