I've been saying goodbye to my beautiful valley for about two months now. We had the option of moving in September, but my husband, because he's a kind and thoughtful man and he knows his wife's heart, postponed the move for me to see the fall color in my valley.
Isn't he wonderful?
But it's not just the natural beauty, we've fallen in love with. It's also the slower, country pace. Though it's growing to be rather a big town, with a population of over 16,000, Montrose still has a small town heart. One day I watched rush hour traffic come to a dead stop on the main road through town, the highway that connects the rest of the world with Telluride, in fact. A little old man had inadvertently stranded himself on the center median, as he was very slowly crossing from the grocery store. He was not even at an intersection, but traffic stopped for him. Not a horn was honked. In fact, many people smiled and waved at him as they proceeded past him after he'd crossed.
You understand, I grew up in the suburbs of large cities where this would never have happened. It brought tears to my eyes. I half expected Norman Rockwell to appear with his pipe on the steps of the courthouse across the way.
Our teaching sisters. We'll miss them so much! And our sweet little chapel with the cherubs all over the altar. And the school children at weekday Mass in their neat blue-plaid uniforms and navy blue berets. And the friends we've made here.
We'll be back, if nothing else, just to vacation and see our friends. We hope to retire here someday, if God wills it. But right now, He's got His hand on our backs and is moving us back over the mountains to the farm. There must be something important there that He wants us to do, or that He wants to do for us. You just never know.
And if He wants it, it's good. That's the only thing we can rely on in this life.