The West always disappears quickly as we head home. Our final stop is always in the Badlands at dawn, where we mingle with views, birdsong, and bison. It is a lovely brew at this time of year when people are sparse. Truth is, during our final sunset and sunrise visits to the park, we rarely see another person.
It’s some profound magic, feels like a dream, and carries me through the rest of the year.
It’s become clear that five months is too long for us to be bouncing around. Maybe it would be different if we settled into one place for the entire time. However, it would not be anywhere near as exciting. As constituted, our travels are like a buffet with a bit of this, a touch of that, a side serving of “whatever that is over there.”
At the close of a trip, I always marvel at the entire route and how puzzle pieces fit together. Some of this is choreographed; others are connected to mystery and fate. Either way, it’s a delicious feast.
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