There was a time when I regretted my decision to live in small town Montana. The ease of being somewhere else - somehwhere bigger - was familar and appealling. Life is harder in a mountain town. Not "cowboy-to-town-for-hard-tack-and-dry-goods" hard, but "there's-no-doctor-here-so-don't-have-your-baby-in-the-truck" hard. Growing up a city girl I didn't know (or care) where our heat came from. I turned a shiny dial at the end of the hall and *poof* the house got warm. Living in West Yellowstone I know exactly where our heat comes from because I'm the one chopping the wood and building the fire. We live 90 miles from WalMart which means you drive an hour and a half to buy underwear. Convenience is not a way of life in the mountains. It's what you trade for quiet streets and clean air. It's what you sacrifice for peace of mind and a greater perspective on the things you need versus the stuff you want.
Swapping the six-screen cineplex for a one-screen movie house was a bold and rewarding move. Everything about Yellowstone Country is engaging. The beauty of the nation's first national park is not contained by the boundaries established through history. It spills over into our backyards and we wake up each morning to the mountains and the rivers and to moose peeking in our windows. Today I sit at my desk looking out at blue skies over Lionhead Mountain and the nearly 4-feet of snow that is my lawn. I'm ten years in to being a Montanan and it gets a little bit better (and a lot more interesting) every day....
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