the first step

On December 8, 2016, exactly one month after Trump was elected president, my husband and I drove away from our California home of ten years to start a new life in Helena, Montana.  In the five decades I've lived in this country, all of them were spent living by the sea.  First, as a sandy blonde kid in Manhattan Beach, then as a crunchy granola hippie as near to the northern coast as I could afford. The move to Helena was neither spur-of-the-moment nor completely pre-imagined.  But it was, in every sense of the word, the only way to keep our family whole.

Folks have asked that I keep them updated about our new journey here in this northern landscape in this red state in this village of thirty thousand.  And, I will do that here.

The home we bought sits on a hill overlooking the Helena Valley.  It is, by far, the nicest home I've ever owned and I'm still amazed that we live here.  For these reasons, and for many others, I refer to our house as Solsbury Hill.  I hope to tell you, as clearly as possible, why.

Just writing this much has me weepy. As beautiful as our home is, as wonderful are our neighbors, this is the very last place we ever imagined ourselves living.  Much of me continues to hold on to our original vision of retirement.  And I miss, so very very much, everything and everyone I left behind in California.

"Climbing up on Solsbury Hill
I could see the city light
Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night
He was something to observe
Came in close, I heard a voice
Standing, stretching every nerve
I had to listen had no choice
I did not believe the information
I just had to trust imagination
My heart going boom, boom, boom
Son, he said, grab your things I've come to take you home ..."
- Peter Gabriel