Is it irony that after my last post our 50-year-old trees came crashing out of the sky exactly a month after her death.
When she was dying I ran to the grocery store and caught Garrison Keillor’s show in a few minutes it took to get there. It was that magic light of dusk. There was nothing beautiful about the drive along an old rarely used railroad track. I’ve always been drawn to the abandoned places the places of open sky and few people. That’s why I loved the Montana I used to live in. It would not be the same Montana now. In that short drive I felt the company of every vast abandoned space I had ever loved, every landscape, every place of solitude. I felt time telescope from being a 12-year-old walking the city lake and in the shadows of the newly rehabbed warehouses to being 20 in Marble, Colorado to the wind scoured plains of Eastern Montana where the mountains were just a promise and back to the industrial suburban road in the city I’d made a life in where I was 40 and my best friend was dying.
And I heard this song.