Dear Yosemite, It's impossible to attribute my love for you to one single moment; visiting you is like seeing an old friend. There is no singular thing that has bonded us but rather the culmination of our experiences together. In high school, my friends and I would wake up at 1:00 or 2:00 am and drive the four and a half hours to visit you in search of an experience, a moment of wonder, or maybe a place to be free. You offered a purity in your landscapes, one that would not judge, nor question us, only kindly provide us your steadfastness. You allowed us to be whatever we wanted, allowed us to question without consequence, to feel pain deeply without fear of judgment, and to have experiences of the purest joy. We would spend hours admiring your beauty, laughing, having conversations about life, love, death, and everything in between. You are a home, a sanctuary, a place of growth, and for that, my dear old friend, I am so thankful.