I stood there staring blankly at my former dormitory; however certain unfortunate events have forced me to move on. I needed to leave this life behind me. A life that found me unexpectedly almost a year ago today, progressively this very life has brought me nothing but pain and sorrow. I only could blame myself for such a blundering mistake of moving to Montana, yet I passed that blame all onto a falsified love. I was convinced this love of a certain woman was the solution to all my problems. I suppose to some extent she was a way to find myself, or maybe she was just a stepping stone for me to break out of my comfort zone. At any rate, I moved to Montana for her and her alone, but it took me only six months to realize all of my decisions were made in vein. I could stand here all day and make excuses for why I made my mistakes. I could blame my bleeding heart on her cold bitter soul but this will not change a damn thing. We have so little time on this earth to live our lives so what would be the point in stressing myself out about one tiny bump in the road.
So, I find myself outside this building with a packed truck ready to move on to a new start. I really couldn’t have picked a better to leave in all honesty. The weather here can cause a man to lose his soul, and I have grown sick of it like a horse would of his whip. Montana has a weird way of sucking your soul dry with its subzero temperatures. A minus thirty wind will leave you in a haze of depression, and can cause a young man from high desert country to lose his mind. That day I left was no different, because when it came time to start the, what must have been frozen, engine of my little ford pick up, well lets just say my engines soul had been sucked dry as well. The third turn of my ignition switch was a charm, of course wouldn’t you figure, without any hesitation I made my way for the freeway.
This would be the last time ever having to make this drive, as I passed through the flat windy landscape I couldn’t help but yell to myself in utter joy. Every mile haunted me with memories of this past year. Every trip I made this way was filled with anticipation to see my love, and excitement at the thought of starting a life here. Now, I couldn’t be more in a hurry to leave this place, I now felt free some how. I drove past the never ending line of fences and trees that seem to cover western Montana; wondering why it was there wasn’t more heartbreak on my side of this departure. I think I always knew the answer though. The love I shared with her was real, raw and no where near short of passion, but at some level we both knew I wasn’t meant to stay. My life has always been unsettled, and completely unpredictable. Deep down in both our hearts we knew a love was not going to last because I could not inhabit Montana for a life sentence. Driving, memories haunted me; I sang a song or two and my heart moved onward from the mistake of staying in Montana for a period past expiration.
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The rain poured from the sky like a shower head out of control, and soaked an entire city. This city which, they call the emerald city was use to this sort of pounding rain which constantly drowned the area. It is even rumored the reason for an unusual suicide rate is due to the dory weather often visiting this metropolis. However, the weather is not of importance and is irrelevant at this point. Except to one person; a young woman who is matching the weather with her tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. She has grown tired of the sullenness of this city. Her heart is heavy as she packs up a suit case determined to make a break for freedom. The trappings of a busy world have grown too harsh, and have left her with a heart breaking one too many times. Only her heartbreaks from more than just a love or two gone badly; but from the staleness that has engulfed her lifestyle. Tears streaming down her face she grabs her bag, and heads outside to bare the elements for her escape. Thoughts ran through her head like stampeding buffalo running from hunters. Feelings seemed to be numbed from the coldness of the rain. She turns the ignition, pulls the shifter into drive and heads for a new beginning to her life.
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I reached my hometown around five in the evening; the weather had been warming in this part of the country unlike Montana. I rolled my window down to take in the beautiful intoxicating smells floating in the air around early spring. As you pull in close to town you pass the local mill, which in recent years have not been a driving economic force, which had fresh cut logs. The wind blows the smell of wet wood from the stacks of lumber yet to be manufactured. Another gentle breeze hits almost as quickly as the last bringing in a sent of sagebrush. After pulling into town the smell of bar food permeating from the local taverns make its way down the main streets of Omak. Soon, all of these smells will be dwarfed however by the wildfires burning through out the Okanogan area each year. Yes, it sure smells like home, and in a strange way these smell that once made me dread residence in this town, suddenly allowed my heart and soul to free them of an overwhelming heaviness. You could equate the feeling to someone being released from solitary confinement, and seeing sunlight for the first time in months. Lord only knows a man can not live long without sunlight.
I drove through the small town main street drag where most teenagers drive up and down on Friday nights. I know this because I participated in such a ritual enough times in my life to know that doesn’t change. On this night however, the middle of the week proved to be just that the middle of the week. Not many people were out, and as I made my way up towards the north part of town I took notice to the few local drunks on street corners beneath a neon moon. There were also a few locals just out and about either going to dinner at our in town Mexican restaurant or just taking a walk for the enjoyment. Further north of downtown I reached the turn off to my house, which was located on what we locals call the “Flats”, but I am really not sure why we call it that being as it is actually favorably hilly. Making my way to the long dirt driveway turn off, which leads to my house, I couldn’t help but feel elated just to be home. The sun was setting on more than just the day’s events, but also a sun had set on a chapter of my life. A chapter that may have very well of been drawn out too long, like an amateur author might in their first story.
After being home for a few months of cabin fevered winter, today would be more welcomed than a million dollars landing on my front porch. The forecast was for sixty degrees of pure bliss, and after months of sub zero temperatures it would feel more like one hundred degrees. Even though the technical first day of spring would not roll around for a week or so, there was no doubt spring had finally arrived. Soon you would be able to walk outside and not need a jacket just to walk to your vehicle. Flowers would soon be blossoming into a wide array of colors and smells, mostly of pinks and yellows around this area. The sage brush has begun to turn into its usual dark puke green color before turning into summer baby’s breath. I think the fondest memories I have from growing up around here took place around this time of the year. Baseball season was usually in full swing by now, and I always felt so invigorated. Fresh cut grass in left field, grass stains on a pair of baseball pants and dust swirling in the air like a whirl wind. I remember showing up at practice everyday after school itching to run out into the outfield. I miss those days of sprinting for a fly ball no one believed could be caught, and making the catch. Those days are gone now however, but reminiscences of those days still linger in certain smells that roll through the air bring them back every now and then.
Today however I would not be playing baseball. No, today I am going to go fishing at a lake with a name that lacks any creativeness, fish lake is my destination. Actually I will not be only fishing but camping up at the lake. Just as I was packing up my things to get ready for my little camping adventure my dad walked in my room.
“Hey Max, do you think you could do me a favor?”
“Yeah dad sure thing”
“How about making a quick trip up to Oroville for me before you go camping?”
“Dad, that is like 20 miles out of my way though, and I honestly don’t have the gas to make the trip.”
“Yeah but you are going in that direction anyways, plus you don’t think I would ask you if I wasn’t going to pay for your gas do you?”
“Well since you put it that way I guess I will have to accept”
See my dad is a real estate agent and he receives these request to go out and take pictures of homes for the mortgage companies, just for updated information. Often, my dad has me do these for him just because lately he has been awfully busy with more important dealings. I am happy to go do these little inspection projects for him, especially since he pays me under the table for them. He has always been a very generous supportive father. I am not saying he spoils me at all, but being born as his sun is like a company hiring you, and in the process you receive these amazing benefits. Don’t get me wrong however, I really do have to work for these benefits and always have, he just wants me to have a better life than he did as a young man. Growing up I honestly could not thin of anyone I would have rather had as a father, he took me fishing taught me about sports and all the things a father and son are suppose to do.
That being established I feel it is safe to say that these little stunts he pulls on me from time to time get to be a little irritating. This is a typical thing for him to do, just before I get ready to go somewhere or do something he, last minute mind you, will come up with some odd ball job he needs done that I don’t want to do. In this case it just so happened that today he needs me to travel twenty miles out of my way just to go get a picture of some house. Normally this would be a great time to start arguing with him but I figure what is the use, I was going to cave anyways. So, I finished packing up a few essential items needed for my adventure in camping and headed outside.
I threw my green canvas bag into my pick up, along with a one man tent, fishing tackle and a couple of poles. I only needed two more things to make my trip complete, but to get them I needed to head into town. These two items are a no brainier around here, if you have lived here for any amount of time then you would know that beer and tobacco are necessary to any camper. Yes, I do realize that my major in college has been health and fitness, and yes, I do realize the world is exceptionally uptight about the health affects of these products. However, there is one thing that needs to be known about me and my stance on this issue; I honestly could care less about what everyone else thinks about beer and tobacco. Camping is a way of letting lose and getting back to nature, and for me there is nothing better than fishing with a couple of cold Cooers, and a full can of Copenhagen. I started up my truck with a mindset to do some serious fishing, and of course take a picture.
After driving along a highway that is extremely busy with ridiculous traffic, which bewilders me to no end. We are located in the north central part of Washington. There really and truly is nothing here except for sagebrush and ponderosa pine trees. Most of the scenery consists of foothill mountains covering the span of this valley, with dotted spots of sage brush. Sand covers this extremely dry valley as well. You could almost describe this area as a mountainous desert. Undoubtedly one of the driest places on earth, yet at the same time extremely beautiful, except for winter, nothing is beautiful covered in snow. This place is at its peak from March till August. The summer months are my favorite due to the fact you can go anywhere and do anything. During these months the sun seems to never set and days go on and on. I love being able to sit outside in a lawn chair in the wee hours of the evening watching an orange sunset through the smokiness of a summer wildfire. Being able to sit out in the dark, looking into a clear sky in search of the perfect star light. Unfortunately, people from the western part of this state have also discovered the beauty of our painted summer skies, and are now crowding us. Granted there is still quite a bit here that is being invaded on by westerners, but not as much as there use to be.
I pulled into the small town of Oroville around noon, and lucked out in finding the house was located in town near the park. This house was the typical house found in this town; small, run down and built right on top of its neighboring house. I drove up in front of the house pausing long enough; not even putting the truck in park, to take a snap shot of the house and made a quick exit.
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