Page 55 of Grown-Up Second Chance

I nodded my agreement.

“They say a writer is always observing,” Liz said. “Like other artists.”

“That makes sense,” I said. But I thought it was more than that. Being interested in others was innate to who Joe was. His wife had been a very lucky person. Rare are the men who can simply listen without immediately trying to fix things.

“What’s up with you two?” Kathleen asked.

Why wouldn’t she let it go?

“We told you. Nothing. We’re going in different directions when we leave here. The three of us are planning a year-long trip. He’s headed back to Montana in the fall to move to Ennis. And even when we’re done traveling, I’m probably moving back to the Bay Area.”

“Why?” Kathleen asked.

“Because that’s where I’ve lived all this time. I’ve got friends. There are things to do—museums and concerts and such.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you mean ‘uh-huh’?”

“When was the last time you talked to a California friend? Or went to a museum or event? When you lived there, all you ever talked about was Larry, the house, business, and maybe your golf game.”

I started to protest, then realized she was right. In spite of the access to ‘culture,’ my life had been pretty narrow.

“I’ll do better next time,” I said.

“I think you should stay,” Liz said, finally looking up from her sketch pad. “We’ve missed you.”

Kathleen nodded.

My throat tightened enough to cut off speech, and tears formed in my eyes. They wanted me here, back home in Montana.

“I bet Joe wouldn’t mind either,” Liz said softly.

For a second I felt like I was in my twenties again, with the world laid out before me in its endless possibilities.

But I wasn’t in my twenties. I was in the fall of my life. Doors had shut behind me.

Still, my sisters wanted me home.

It would be nice to come back to the Big Sky.

“Thanks,” I said.

My sisters nodded and went back to their tasks.

The book in my hand held no interest. My soul was filled with wonder. What would happen if I did pull up stakes and move?

Although Joe and I weren’t a real possibility as anything other than friends, I’d have my sisters. I had already proven I could work from anywhere.

And there wasn’t a better place to take pictures than Montana.

~ ~ ~

We spent the afternoon watching people pick up buffalo “chips” with rubber-gloved hands and tossing them as far as they could. Joe tried to get us to participate, but we were having none of it.

“I’ve picked up enough shit for a living,” Kathleen protested. “I don’t need to do it voluntarily.”

He laughed, joined the line, and flung his chips a good distance. When the winners were announced, he was among them. He came back with his prize: a large bag of chocolate covered berries masquerading as bear poop, a certificate of achievement, and a T-shirt.

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