Saying Goodbye

This place has been home and it's going to be hard to leave. Here is a brief list of some of the things I'm going to miss:

-The mountains. They are the landscape here. They divide our quiet slice of the state from the hustle and bustle of the west side. They provide recreational opportunities during every season and they are the reason that most people live here. Some people feel insignificant in front of huge mountains. I feel protected. It reminds me that there still are wild places out there, they just have to be found.

-The lake. After all, it's the reason I came here in the first place. Because of the lake, I have become an educator. Because of the lake I have found love. Because of the lake I have challenged myself intellectually, socially, physically and emotionally. Because of the lake I've had a home here for the past 7 months.

-The people. This is a transient place. People here are generally nomadic. This is both amazing and the most tragic thing imaginable. It means that each season a whole new crop of young, energetic people arrive in town. In a town of 400 people, you never expect to find 30 people who could potentially be your best friend. That's how summer is here. But then fall comes and everyone leaves. Everyone always leaves. And then you discover that there is a whole separate community aside from the seasonal sector. There is a school here with kids and parents and all the things any other town has, just smaller. One of the best things I did here was to get involved with that side of the community. Coaching at the high school has introduced me to some of the best people and most rewarding relationships I could have hoped for.

-The solitude and quiet. You don't move to a place like this without knowing how to be alone. I'm so grateful for the good friends I've made here, but I'm also grateful that I've gotten to spend time by myself - hiking, swimming, biking, thinking - and have really begun to understand who I am and what makes me happy. I'll take the wind rustling through the Jeffrey pines and a Great Horned Own who-whooing under a spectacular array of stars on a frigid fall night over traffic and sirens and neon lights any day, even if it means I have to drive 30 minutes for the nearest cup of coffee.

-My job. I don't know how I got so lucky. Every day I get to spend time with kids teaching them the value of spending time outside. Together, we discover things they never knew about themselves and about the world. We talk about stream ecology standing ankle deep in Rush Creek. We think about the differences between a Jeffrey pine and a pinion pine with a cone from each in our hands. We discuss climate change standing in the shadow of Califonia's biggest refrigerator - the Sierras. We address real world issues while we're out there, in the real world, apart from computer screens and cell phones. My co-workers provide me with support, new ideas and many, many laughs. I have the best job in the world.

It's time to move on now, and my feelings are very mixed. My next step will take me to a new and different place, but so many of these little details will be missing. Surely I'll find many things to love about Colorado too, but for now I'll be dreaming of following a great blue heron down the Lee Vining Creek Trail, of standing on top of Glass Mountain and seeing the entire Eastern Sierra laid out in front of me, and of wandering through the tufa with Violet Green swallows darting and weaving through the air around me.

Lee Vining, Mono Basin, Eastern Sierra: I will miss you.