Somehow, I thought I’d have written this months ago. But the words never came. The thoughts came and went. By the hundreds. How do I talk about leaving, and how hard it was that final day in Gardiner in early October? I had the urge for going (thank you for those words, Joni. what a deep place they spoke to when you sang them.), and so I had to go. I had promises to keep. I make them very carefully these days; because I intend to keep them all, and we never know how much those promises mean to others or what change might lie ahead to make the promise-keeping impossible. I especially treasure the promises I make to myself, these days. As I drove out of Montana that day, I made one of those promises.
I’ll be back.
In the past several days, I’ve received word that I have a job. It’s not a glamorous job. It’s damned hard. And the pay is way south of some of the proposals for minimum wage. But I’ll have a camping spot in a place as close to heaven as I have ever been. And I can keep my promise.
Here are a few more reasons why: