Helena, MT

I know this town. I did not grow up here, and I have not lived here even a year, but I know it. I walk, and walk, and every turn I make, every hill I walk up, I learn a new part. I know the way the air smells when it’s still morning and the sun will be warm that day. I know the animals I see and the way we both look at each other for a moment before continuing on our ways. I know the twists in the trees and the way their bare branches once held leaves to protect me from the sunlight. I know the curves some streets take, only to reveal the most magnificent sights. Do not ask me where you can go for a good drink or delicious meal, because I doubt I will ever know this town in that way. Ask me instead of the view that will catch your breath, and the wind you will feel on your cheeks, as if it is returning it to you. That is what I hold onto in my loneliest moments; the feeling of truly knowing a place and the sound I know the snow will make, when it is my two feet alone, walking upon it. I know this town, and somehow, I know it knows me.