I Fell Out of Love — kerri pollard

I fell out of love. After 18 years, I needed to escape this relationship. Like many, we had outgrown one another. Desired different things. Held conflicting values. I was now an outsider looking in. It was a time filled with amazing memories and life-changing decisions. You helped build my career and raise our daughter, but it’s time for us to move on. Sorry California.

In May of 2025, we sold our California home and made Park City our permanent one. Several months later, we welcomed a new member to our family: Dottie, our AeonRV. Named after Daryl’s paternal grandmother, who passed at 99-years of age and adored camping in her younger years with husband Benny. As they did in the East, we are exploring the West spontaneously.

I miss my small (very small) circle of SoCal friends, which has continued to shrink since retiring at the start of 2022. I started to believe that I was broken on the friendship front. With more time than ever before, I struggled to find “my people” in SoCal. Failing to endure conflicts of minuscule proportions, I also lost some along the way. Apparently, years of friendship do not equate to strength or loyalty. While I was talking budgets in boardrooms, other women were raising their children together at school drop-off, pick-up, and playdates. “Who are you? Where have you been? Our circle is at capacity. Sorry!” Ending a 25-year career in sales and account management, I had also exceeded my quota for small talk and closed it. A must for making new friends. “How many kids do you have? Were you born in California? Do you work outside the home?” If I fail to find a connection within a mere five minutes…next! Daryl often reminds me, “You’re not interviewing a new employee, you’re seeking a friend for the occasional lunch date.”

In short, lower your bar.

Thankfully, Park City proved to me that I wasn’t broken and no bar needed to be lowered. The journey of friendship has been infinitely easier because I’m surrounded by women who share my values, interests, and priorities at this stage of life. Most of us have entered our “athlete” era in the mountains, unable to do so previously because of work and/or familial obligations. We all missed the window - if there ever was one - of Lindsey Vonn's greatness, but we are making the most of our bodies while we can.

“Don’t you miss the weather?” Yes and no. Call it climate change or don’t, but the extremes have been unleashed by Mother Nature. What was hot has become hotter. What was wind has become windier. What was dry has become drier. Perfect recipe for the Palisades fire, which burned our former home on Embury Street to the ground. Prompted by Peyton’s graduation from Pali High and our lack of love for the beach, we left before the fire in 2021 and returned inland to Thousand Oaks. I wish our Pali friends and neighbors had followed. All we know have lost their homes.

I don’t know if Park City will be our forever home. Utah is no exception to Mother Nature’s wrath as we’ve had one of the worst Winters (aka no snow) on record, infuriating locals and visitors alike with icy, man-made conditions at every single ski resort. Will our bodies continue to support our mountain lifestyle? Will Peyton stay on the East Coast - or go elsewhere - and start popping out grandkids? Not yet P…please. ;)

No crystal ball, but we’ve had a blast exploring the country in Dottie. Mountain biking (MTB) in the Walmart mecca of Bentonville, AK and meeting new friends, like Jeff and Amy. Returning to Jackson Hole after 30 years and learning that it has become Disneyworld for the National Park crowd, with little to no MTB. Loved Grand Targhee, tho. Harvest Hosts has been the best highlight. Small businesses and farms are lending their parking lots to RVs for overnight stays. We met Chad, chief distiller at Pine Bluffs distillery, in western Wyoming, who was generous with the shots and gave us a grand tour. Spent the night with buffalo at Prairie Ridge Buffalo Farm in Limon, Colorado, and departed with bison goodies in hand. Stayed at a sustainable farm in Arkansas with no owners in sight, only their farm dog protecting his sheep from Levi, our 30-lb labradoodle.

Making memories, not plans. Just the way I like it.

I look forward to returning to California as a tourist, driving up its miraculous coast in Dottie and seeing old friends. I don’t look forward to the traffic or revisiting California’s complicated relationship with homelessness. Like all things, there are pros and cons, but PEOPLE MAKE A PLACE.