All Good Things Must End
Going through the files on my computer the other night, I came across a document that I had perhaps intended to publish on my blog. As most of you know, I am no longer a Missoulian, and, as such, no longer feel that I can publish blogs on this website with a clear conscience. So, it seems fitting that my final blog entry be published now, over a month after leaving Montana, but written then, a time when the air smelled a little sweeter, the trail came a little steeper, and life seemed a little better. Missoula, you will be missed.
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"... and what you are left with is a premonition of the way your life will fade behind you, like a book you have read too quickly, leaving a dwindling trail of images and emotions until all you can remember is a name." ~ Jay McInerney
Tonight I took a walk from my house down North Street, past machine sheds and industrial buildings I'd never noticed before and probably will never think of again. I dropped a letter off at the post office and trailed back the way from which I came. It began to rain a little and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse over the idea of leaving this corner of the world relatively unexplored. Places I've never seen will remain unseen and things I've never done will remain undone. There is too much to do and too little time. I suppose it's how one feels whenever the time comes to say good-bye.
Heidi and I will leave Missoula in approximately five weeks. The fact that we are now counting down our departure date in terms of weeks is more than a little unnerving. All the natural beauty of this place will soon vanish in our rearview mirror as we head back east, along with its miserable job market and bleak economic prospects.
We're leaving for the big city of Minneapolis - a place we have chosen for its affordability, proximately to family, and job prospects. Our excitement over moving to an unknown city is unfortunately shadowed by a number of other emotions - the most prominent of which being this rising sense of impending loss. I suppose that's all to be expected, though.
The fact is that life goes on. Sure, Missoula has been great for us. It's a vibrant community that has been incredibly positive for our development as individuals. We've made good friends here and have realized a connectedness to this place. But to mourn our departure from it would be to associate all those good memories with the painful finale that will inevitably come with our last exit onto the freeway.
To live in the past is to betray one's place in the future. And whatever the future brings, I want to be there for it.
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Post Script: Those seemed like very wise words I was telling myself at the time, but I've come to a realization that if you wish to carry on a life of contentment in the Middle West, you can't allow yourself to ever get used to life in the mountains. It's a sad truth. My present reality seems muted, and I can't help but feel anxious, every now and then, for my return to the West's cultural and physical ruggedness has left this deep-seated void in my psyche and my soul. I suppose like everything in this life, it's always a matter of time.
