Ibrahim and the Lonely Bench

Missoula has not been what I'd hoped for. Weather and trail conditions have kept us off the peaks we were going to climb. So instead, we've walked on the flats, in meadows, and by the Bitterroot River.

This morning, the cold returned, but we were determined to put some morning miles in. After our first mile, snow began, and the snowflakes drifted drunken and lazily to earth. 

We came upon the bench you see in the video and the above photo. The way it sat alone in the snow made me feel sorry for it. It seemed lonely in the dull winter field and under the cold, gray sky.

Nevertheless, we were drawn to it, and I felt waves of sentiment. Love. Sadness. Camaraderie. Friendship. Loss. Mourning. Hopes. Fears. They coursed through me as if I had known this bench and everything that happened on its wooden slats.

"If only you could talk," I said.

The birds were singing, calling, talking. The woodpeckers rapped and drilled. A chill wind swirled the snow. I took off my glove and ran it across the tim…