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Madeline Ewing’s story of a road trip through Roosevelt National Forest, and finding acceptance in nature, which the longlist in our LGBTQ essay contest: Walking into a clothing store, my body splits in two. Or at least, it would if it were possible. Instead, I take my time wading through the women’s section before making my way to the men’s. Something for “both,” because to exist as myself, society tells me I am two different, contradictory things. And even “both” isn’t complete. But here, in groves upon groves of Douglas firs and Ponderosa pines, I am myself without a need to separate into pieces. My blood runs like the Colorado River, my thoughts whisper like Aspen leaves in the wind. My sense of self evolves and changes, like limestone eroded by the wind and water, taking shape over and over again each millennium. People might chop down my trees or ravage my body with wildfires in the name of industrialization. But I grow back surer and stronger, fuller and more fragrant.