The color of my life...

I was thinking the other day, about the things that make me…me. About the memories that stand out in life and seem unique in some way. A part of tapestry that makes us colorful. In the end I’m just an average girl. Had a fairly unique life to a lot of people. But to me it was normal so thus not that remarkable. Had a really great childhood I think. Despite a few black marks and struggles…generally speaking it was really blessed.

Moved to Montana when I was four…lived in a log cabin on the banks of the North Fork river…looked across to the Rocky Mountains. It had no electricity or telephone. Heated our food, water, and house with wood. Almost lost our house to the great forest fire of ’88, but fire stopped on our property line and burned around it…believed in miracles then. Got snowed in in the winter of ’89. Dad rode my horse Starbuck to the nearest telephone 15 miles away at the local mercantile to make an emergency call. Cars couldn’t get out for weeks.

Learned how to work hard and play hard. Never got an allowance, never needed one. Played in the river in the summer-time…pulled giant leeches of my legs and watched the blood run down. Woke up in the middle of the night to -60 degrees F, in winter, crawled in my parents bed with my brothers just to stay warm. Saw the most incredible vivid display of the northern lights drawn in massive curtains across the sky and reflected back on the river and snow. Gathered firewood in the fall, got scrapped off on a tree by my Shetland pony Coco, multiple times. Had a lamb named Heidi. Found it with a big chunk taken out of its side by a Timber wolf. Had to put her down. Got stopped on my way home from the neighbors by a Timber wolf, twice my size. Looked into my soul…can shut my eyes and see those steely blue eyes staring me down. Didn’t turn around couldn’t, frozen in mid step. Stayed there for 5 minutes until it turned around and disappeared back into the woods. Then I ran.

Had a Grizzly bear try to break into our house, had a Grizzly raid our trash, our garden, our garage. Had a Grizzly bear swipe at my Golden Retriever named Goldie. Had a cat get eaten by a mountain lion. Had friend who had a pet mountain lion. Lived outdoors. Ran barefoot…got browned like a little Indian. Had an Indian show up on our door-step. A REAL Indian. Showed us how to track and light a fire, set up a teepee and clean a buck-skin. Stayed with us a while. Had a neighbor who was in the Vietnam war and lost his mind…thought the government was after him. Tried to kill my dad one night by running him off a cliff in the car. Had a lot of neighbors who thought the government was after them.

Loved my brothers like best friends, still do. Fought with my brothers like best friends, still do. Talked back to my mom and dad every day of my life, still do.

My early days, some of the memories have laid down roots taken hold. Is it unique? Sure, but yours is too…if you think about it. It’s tantalizing to think that each person holds the stories to a rich and varied life, unique to only them and just sitting there waiting for the telling.