There's more to life

I walked out my front door this morning to a couple horses, the sound of a creek, and some singing birds. It’s not the normal greeting I get when I open my front door.

Usually I get to see pavement, smell some cigarette smoke, and watch a car screech to a stop at the stop sign I live in front of.

Well today (Monday), I’m staying at in an outfitters cabin at a bed and breakfast in Buffalo, Wyo. It’s nice, and it also reminded me of why I moved to Montana.

The feel is similar. Like you think it would be in the middle of Montana. Green, cattle, dogs, electric fences and a view of snow-topped mountains that feel so close you could get frostbite on your hand if you reach out to touch them.

When I first came to Montana I lived on a ranch about halfway between Kalispell and Libby on Highway 2.

Lakes, streams, rivers, cows, trees, elk and dirt roads as far as you wanted to drive. It was quintessential Montana. Or what a silly Californian would think of as Montana.

Hiking, fishing, horseback riding, rafting and nobody but you and your neighbors. And your neighbors happen to live three miles away.

I used to drive my truck, a 1986 Toyota FJ60 Landcruiser, up into the hills or to a lake and just stay the night somewhere. I would go to work in the morning, just like I do now, but at night, I could have my pick of habitats.

Now, I think the last time I went camping it was at Wayfarers State Park in Bigfork over the Whitewater Festival weekend. The park is, of course, a lovely place to stay, but it’s no wilderness campground.

And the last time I actually spent a morning and evening by the campfire cooking, and planning my day’s hike along a ridgeline or up to a lake was last year’s Fourth of July.

What I’m trying to say is, I forgot why I moved to Montana. I forgot why I love the winter, why I love the summer, why I love to be in the middle of no where.

I forgot because I haven’t given myself a chance to enjoy it. And now my summer plans stand as this. Work. Not just at the paper, but at a restaurant on the weekends too. Because I have student loans coming due and it would be nice to live a little higher than hand to mouth.

And because it truly is hard to make a decent living in Montana with just one job.

But, I’ve been questioning why I’m doing it because it doesn’t seem worth it to me. To work and run from one place to another, to make money and live in a place I want to live, but forget why I live there.

Why I live in Montana is unexplainable. Perhaps I’ve just told you in 400 words, but it doesn’t even begin to describe my reasons.

Because it’s not about the definitions of things. It’s about a feeling I have when I look around me and take a deep breath. It’s about me more than anything else. And I guess I forgot.