Another drive to Missoula … strike that … Bozeman. Wow! I am so disoriented right now. And ah … where was I? I can see a fence high on a ridge stretching and waking to the mornings fiery light. I think I am somewhere between spending some good times with friends and my new job in Bozeman.
I nearly went unconscious more times this trip then ever. I can’t help but to tell myself this is how people die. It’s their last trip, last day on the job, and something happens. A mountain passes by the passenger side window of the car. The passenger side is empty. Not the way I want it. I fight my desire to go back. To ask someone to come with me. I have to be brave and leave it all behind now.
I get out the camera to pass time and still find myself drifting. The last trip to Missoula now becomming a memory. Suddenly the Bridgers break out in my front window and just like that; I made it. And I survived. Another trip. The last one. I am home.