Far From Home

I grew up in Montana. I lived in New York. I live in Maine. Often I miss Montana. I like to whine about it. You get to read it.

This Year in Photos…. 24 December, 2006 -- Sun

Filed under: Photos — ehme @ 9:42 pm

This has been a hard year for pretty much every single person I know. Death, divorce, sickness, accidents, and random spurts of really crappy luck. I know I personally am looking forward to the end of this year, even if just to say, “Hey there has too be a clean slate somewhere.”

Below is a link to my top 150 photographic moments of the year. Most are taken by me, a couple are stolen from my Evil Twin.

Here’s to new beginnings, and painless endings.

xo

from file: posted with vodpod

 

Time Keeps on Slipping…slipping 1 December, 2006 -- Fri

Filed under: Montana, writingish — ehme @ 1:00 pm

Why is it that when someone asks me, “Where are you from?”, first I cringe at the grammar and then I instantly say, “Montana.”

I am not from Montana. I would not be considered a Native Montanan to any of my Montana friends, and I specifically remember my first day at Muldown Elementary, because Ericka was so nice to me, because Mrs. Peck chopped her finger off, and because Kimberly West said to me, “Oh. Aren’t you from I-da-ho?” I-Dah-ho. Each syllable it’s own vulgar word. Lep-ro-sy.

I grew up in Idaho. In Samuels, Idaho, on a ranch, with a lot of artists around me.

We moved to Kalispell, Montana when I was in second grade. So. Seven years for Idaho.

I lived in Montana until the day I graduated from high school. The literal day. I was out of that state a mere one hour and thirty minutes after I threw my cap in the air. Had I known then that Montana would haunt my entire adult life, I probably would have hung around for a while, just to make sure you know.

So. Ten years for Montana.

Four for New York.

and now almost ten for Maine.

In August I will celebrate my ten year anniversary of being a resident of Portland, Maine. And yet, I still insist on saying I am from Montana.

When does that bond finally break? When do you realize that where you live is where home is, and there is not some magical place that you can go back to? Silly humans and their silly emotions.

“He wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while, or it is was something that you found in the end, if you simply walked and waited and willed it long enough.” –N. Gaiman–American Gods.