Being a prairie girl, I’m usually ready to bid the mountains adeui after visitings places filled with peaks and valleys. But not today.
Today, I don’t want to say good-bye to this steep, rugged landscape that makes my morning walks a challenge. I don’t want to say good-bye to meadows filled with mountain daisies, the osprey nesting in the towering cedar by a swift-flowing stream, to the buck that rests in the ridge right behind our camper.
Today, I don’t want to say good-bye to mornings overflowing with work crews and hammers and power tools and cooking in the kitchen. I don’t want to say good-bye to the lazy afternoons with time for naps and swimming and hikes and horses. I don’t want to say good-bye to three meals a day that leave my taste buds titilated, my stomach full, and my mind satisfied by interesting conversation and companionship.
But most of all, I don’t want to say good-bye to the people gathered here from all around the world, people I see for a week in July and think about all year long. I don’t want to say good-bye to week spent elbow to elbow with four generations of family passing down stories, sharing recipes, reminiscing, working side-by-side cleaning the bath house and doing dishes on KP duty, preparing the younger generations for their march into the future.
Today, I don’t want to say good-bye. So I won’t. Instead, I will take the mountain and all the people on it back to Iowa. I will store a year’s worth of memories in my heart. And when we leave, I’ll start dreaming of next July when we come back to the mountain again.
