As I write this, I’m sitting at the Billings Logan International Airport. Calling it international is kind of a joke because all of their flights to Canada are cancelled currently until further notice due to runway renovation. My summer adventures in Montana are over. It’s a very bittersweet feeling. This has been one of the greatest experiences in my life, and I am somewhat loath to let that go. At the same time, school is starting again, and I need to get back to my friends and my real job of finishing my damn degree.

Right now, I’m looking like a native Montanan. Traditionally, when flying, I wear whatever I can’t fit in my suitcase. This time around, this includes both a Stetson hat and a pair of Ariat boots that I love but take up too much space. I also have on my lovely 406 necklace that’s in the shape of Montana. I’m going to miss this place. It helps that they people here at the airport are pretty slack when it comes to checking-in. They didn’t even weigh my bag, and even the TSA agents are super friendly. Well, super friendly is relative. They aren’t more dickish than they have to be, which I’m willing to accept.

I lived in Montana for much of my childhood, and while I have very fond memories of being here, they’re the memories of a kid. I can think about running outside through what seemed like endless prairie, and scrabbling across rocks that touched the sky, but I think that we all tend to romanticize our childhoods. That in mind, I worried that when I got here, it wouldn’t be the place that I remembered and that I had missed for so long. I was so wrong. This place is unlike any other.

At the gate, my mom, told me to “remember to come home” which sounded like it should have been in a cheap romcom. It’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to say, but don’t. I like to think that she was referring to this place, where my heart really is, and not just seeing my family. The past few months I have felt more alive than I have in years. Something about this place just agrees with me. It could be the open air, the rugged nature around every corner, the people...it’s hard to put my finger on it. But this is the place for me.

Going back to Halifax, although necessary, has become a temporary thing for me. I’m making plans right now to come back to this place. I usually cry at the airport. It’s become kind of a thing for me. Today I’m not feeling sad. In the movie A River Runs Through It, delightfully written and set in Montana, one brother says to another, “Montana will always be here.” And that’s true. It’s the Last Best Place, and I can’t imagine a world without it.

I know that I am destined for further travel. It’s part of who I am. I want to wander. I want to explore. But I’ll always find my way home.

From Montana, for the last time,

Cait

                                                                                                                                       

Well hey bloggy people. I’m not in the airport anymore! I got home last night incredibly late after more than 16 hours of airporting and driving and carting luggage around (without a cart). After sleeping until noon, I realized ALL the things I have to do to get back into the swing of things. That said, I’ve got a couple more Montana adventures that I am trying to get up ASAP, and then I’ve got a pile of mail from all summer that I have to go through. I’ve gotten a ton of new products to test and try so it should be a fun couple weeks. 

Then it’s back to school...for the last time. Gasp. But that’s another post. Anyway. I’ll talk to y’all soon.