As time has passed on and the water appears less muddy, our demise and the end of our travels together makes more sense to me. It was so hard to let go of you and us and the mountains you came with, but our timing was off and the planets misaligned. Our run was limited. Do we ever really get to know why?
You gave me a space to play in the mountains…to walk in the river and gather rocks for our fire pit, to perfect my biscuit-making skills and remind me of the glories of cast-iron cooking again. Reminding me of the joy of hunting for a Christmas tree in the woods, of wood stoves and front porches and planting gardens and the silence of watching snowfall and the haunting beauty of a creaking farmhouse. We watched our daughters sleep peacefully after a Saturday of softball games, creek-hopping and tree climbing. My own daughter learned how to drive your Jeep at 10 years old, sitting in your lap. We baked cookies, fed the neighbor horses carrots, picked apples out of the orchard, harvested the garden, and you built them a dollhouse. Simplicity.
That Priceless View from the porch, where we would watch the sun sink behind the mountains and the moon rise over the hills, predict storms coming and count seven ‘turns’ on the mountains in the distant.
Your turn of the century farmhouse. At the end of the gravel driveway. Where the wheat would grow on both sides and deer would graze in the morning mist.
I thought that I had found my life partner because I knew the mountains was where I wanted and needed to be. You were there and so the puzzle pieces sort of naturally fell together, like we did. But I was mistaken. That’s the part that befuddles and hurts the most at the end. To think that your risk was so right in the beginning, and then. You find out it wasn’t.
Pick up the pixie sticks and start over.
You helped me get back to myself – to remind myself of all the things I loved about growing up in the country…a lifestyle I had to walk away from and mold and meld myself to be someone else. You brought me back to myself and all the simple things that fed me.
The first time I came to see you, I walked around in the front yard under the big oaks and spongy moss under my feet, and a full moon hanging high over the mountains and over my head and laughed and prayed. I thanked God and the Universe for bringing me to that place. For getting back to myself. And for the brief time you and I had to try to learn to love.
‘Fare thee well..
Let your life proceed by its own design.
Nothing to tell now.
Let the words be yours,
I am done with mine.’
Wild Bleu Yonder 