Finding Magic in the Mundane: Six Hours for This

The storm that had dumped a wee two feet on us in a matter of two days had passed three days previous. That meant my little car finally had a chance to drive more than a couple miles at a time and go faster than 30 mph. I was headed to town, Bozeman, that is, for the first time in five weeks. My refrigerator was empty, the cupboards had stuff, but never what I needed, and I longed to look at someone I'd never before seen. Necessities worthy of a six hour trip.

As I started the day in the dark, within minutes I met a fox on the road and within miles met three wolves; one black, two gray, and all three gorgeous, even in the darkness. After that, I saw bison (per usual), a farmer bailing alfalfa (odd as it may seem), and more asphalt than I'd seen in weeks. For five weeks I'd literally walked outside on nothing other than snow or ice. Nothing. Not to mention that the sun was shining in Bozeman and the temperature was a brilliant 40 degrees; I felt like I could run for miles.

But... after a trip to Home Depot, REI, the mall, and Walmart, I had had enough of the city. A whopping four hours later, traffic, parking lots, people, stop lights, and one ways had done me in. By 2pm I was very ready to be back in Cooke City and still had a 3-4 hour drive ahead of me. Four hours in town. Four. What has happened to me? And how will I ever survive when I have to leave this place?

The best part of the day came at the very end. Not the new faces I saw or the people I talked with, not the walking outside with my jacket unzipped and the sun on my face, not the fast food I ate, or the feeling of freedom that comes with driving 40 mph faster than you've driven in over a month (other than on a snowmobile), not the seemingly endless open valleys and distant horizons. The best part of the day came only twenty miles from home.

Not these guys, who were intent on making my 3 hour drive home exceedingly longer...