Reverend Ref +

HOMEWARD BOUND

It was an absolutely gorgeous day for a drive today. It was on the warm side and the sun beat through the windows; I wished I had worn my shorts instead of my jeans, or maybe I was wishing for a pink Cadillac. Who knows?

We wound our way through the mountain road, twisting and turning, my hands enjoying the feel of the curves and the rise and fall of the road.

My eyes caught the glistening of the snow on the mountain peaks, defining their pointed tips against the bright blue sky. Forgetting the anxiousness of the previous day as it felt like the darkness had been kicked in to let in the light.

I saw the outline of the mountains, enjoying how they rose and fell in a seamless pattern, and it was like I could trace my finger along their edge from the base of the foothills to their hard-pointed peaks and back down to the valleys nestled below, enjoying the feel of every touch. I thought how wonderful it was to be traveling through the Rocky Mountain range and knew that I wasn't missing a thing that any city had to offer.

I saw the river running alongside the road, clear and fast. I was thinking how wonderful it would be to stop and drink from that mountain water, from that fountain of freshness, living water and flowing stream through the valley's channel. I thought that maybe, just maybe, it was the best thing I could taste as I let it flow into my mouth and over my tongue. As that stream flowed for many miles, I noticed several bridges that crossed it, and thought it would be a fine thing to walk that road.

And I saw places that looked suitable for summer picnics. Places that, although the road seemed broken at first glance, would take you to a place almost perfect and well worth the wait. And in that place you would enjoy the feel of the sunshine caressing your skin, be able to spread your blanket on the soft grass, the taste of mountain fresh water and berries, and maybe lay down without fear of the blood rushing to your head or sliding downhill.

I love Montana. Welcome Home.