Little darlin, it's been a long cold lonely winter!

...and with another several weeks to go of winter proper, The Beatles have resurrected my juju.

As any introspective existential gal should, I've been up to my eyeballs in considering what I could be learning from these months of stagnation in my hometown.

Monthly I've dipped beneath the frozen surface of the wintry world and dropped a few dozen feet into the pit of lolling despair, and last night it happened again. I have old friends here but whenever I move away, they never stay in touch. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess - so really there's nothing on the surface that I can get out of being here that will be lasting.

So I slip beneath the surface. Get down in there. Shimmy into it. Wiggle into the sand. Let the tide come over. Feel it cracking above me as I try to move.

I was just about to leave my cell phone charging and on silent downstairs last night, but right before I went to bed I decided to take it with me. After an hour's sob-fest with my mother, I was reminded that she can be perfectly stoic and can take my sullenness in graceful stride. She helped, which was unexpected. We are so much alike - I didn't even want to let her in on how sad I've been being stuck here and broke all the time, because I didn't want to bring her down after all she's done to help me.

Anyway.

My cell phone rang around 4AM - Whiskers Welch! Montana Matt! Calling from Portland with a buzz and a case of missing-the-Beth!

We talked for about an hour and reminisced about last summer and both of us counting down to almost the minutes we have to wait until our return to the St Mary Valley.

Rediscovering my love for The Beatles on the way to town today, it's been decided that Here Comes The Sun will be my anthem for the moment I crest over and into the valley from Duck Lake Rd upon returning in May. The mountains will return to view and I will probably sob and sob and kiss the ground, maybe even roll around on it before I go to check in with GPI for this coming season.

Hwy 89 at Going-to-the-Sun Road will be my address once again. Here Comes The Sun is an appropriate return song for this gal.

Eleven weeks and 5 days till I leave.
Thirteen weeks and 6 days till I check in.
Fourteen weeks tomorrow will be my first shift.

...and in 33 weeks, I'll still be there.


Whew.

I can doooooo thiiiiiiis.