It was mile 769 out of 1,041 of our drive across the west, when I dared utter the words. “Do you ever wish we could live a slower life?” I asked my husband as we drove across the rolling plains and red clay mountains of Utah. He turned his head slightly and I offered clarification. “Do you ever wish we could move to someplace like this? Live slower. More intentionally. Not as hurried or rushed. You know, more at peace.” I turned my eyes to the countryside, letting my imagination play. I pictured a little house in the meadow of the mountains in a small town like the one we…