I have now left the Village, for now, for a while, who knows what the future holds. So I feel another post is in order, especially since I don't have a slow internet excuse anymore. (ha!) I think getting used to fast internet again is not so hard. Getting used to being able to text and call people again is trickier. And if I hear a siren that sounds just like the wail, I still get twitchy for a few seconds and feel that I should respond. But the squirrels! Were they always so large? Or are the ones in the village just that small? I thought maybe just squirrels in Washington were weird, but now I'm in Minnesota and they look weird here, too, and I don't remember thinking squirrels looked weird the first time I came here. It seems like such an odd thing to have a hard time adjusting to, but really. The squirrels are huge! Why are they so large?
Squirrels aside, I took the train from Seattle to St. Paul, which was somewhere around 40 hours, and I still like traveling by train. The seats are more comfortable, it's easier to get up and walk around, and the views can be nice (depending, of course, on what part of the country you're traveling through. I have now seen North Dakota for myself, and can confirm the rumors that it isn't a whole lot to look at.). The best part of this trip, making it all worth it in case it would not have been worth it anyway, was waking up the first morning to the sunrise over Montana, and coming around the southern edge of Glacier National Park, with the mountains glowing spectacularly in the morning sun. It was breathtaking, it was fabulous, and I was perhaps overemotional from not having slept as much as I should, but I could have stared at that view for hours and not tired of it. It was the last best view of mountains, since Montana flattens out farther east, but now I know I must visit that park. I always thought mountains were nice in pictures, but having lived in them now, they have taken root in my soul and mean so much more to me than they ever did before. There is something so majestic, so wild, so primordial about them that defies description and can only be felt by experiencing them. I suppose much of nature is like that, each in its own way, but mountains have me now and there will always be a place for them in my soul.
And then I arrived in St. Paul. After visiting several people in places that were not familiar, it was nice in a way to arrive in familiar territory, though of course much has changed. Many of my friends have moved away, and the school has changed dramatically in the last year, which makes me sad for it (since these are not the happy changes of prosperity and good direction). But it has recalled to me the many good times I had here, for which I am grateful. The introvert in me is also thankful for the bit of respite during travels and some down time, time that is not full to bursting with socialization.
Soon I will be off again, on paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown, to ventures of which I cannot see the end. So here's to some faith to go out with good courage.