IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WERE GOLFERS

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Submitted Date 06/21/2019
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I'm in Idaho.
I packed my bags and fled from New Mexico. This 850 square foot cabin in Donnelly, Idaho is where I found myself after weeks of searching Craigslist for a place to call home. Donnelly consists of a whopping 138 people, a tavern, a gas station, and a fantastic bakery. Okay, so I left out a few places but you get the general idea. Rachel settled 50 miles Northeast in Yellow Pine, home of the Harmonica Festival and 32 colorful Idahoans.

Beyond the various mountain hikes and fishing trips I searched for myself. How cliche, a quarter life crisis out of college. This is life, The very essence of it. Nature, God, experiences that teach you hard lessons that can only be taught here; in this moment. There is something I find fascinating about meeting and sharing with people I'll never see again, and I crave human connection. Two or three people can meet, connect, and depart carrying with them a fond memory of that chemical engineer from Soda Springs originally from California (but deeply ashamed to admit it). The people I encounter will forever in their minds hold the memory of that mysterious mountain girl from New Mexico.

As I lie alone on this makeshift bench the locals know as "L.A.'s Church", Otto (or Bot Bot) Rachel's terrier/chihuahua mix, barks and runs off, scaring me half to death. A few black bears wandered nearby the night before and plundered through our trash at 2am. My heart skipped a few beats as I opened my eyes and saw a small group of mountain men golfing out in the woods. Really. I'm out on the edge of the Frank Church Wilderness and I encounter golfers? I suppose amidst the whispering pines and dormant huckleberry bushes a man must quench his desire to golf. I sit at L.A.'s church in Yellow Pine, Idaho gazing down at the Salmon River, embracing it's beauty and hearing the roar of the busy water making it's way down and over the rocks and branches. I can't help but compare the "civilized" world as the river, rushing on by and observed as beautiful from an outsider. While immersed the river it is chaotic, and is rarely as pleasing as when it is observed from a distance.

The memories of Yellow Pine are stuck with me and I can't help but feel sad when I think that my weekends of being off the grid to the world. Drinking red wine, talking about men and energy with Rachel--it will be gone as quickly as it came. There is a reason I was led here. This place contains an indescribable powerful energy. Somehow the memories, good and bad, blend into a concoction of a simple feeling of connection with life, growing up, and experiences. I don't feel much yet when I think about it in the moment, but I sense growth and change that flows into by being. The question "why not?" sits in my head like the typical morning fog that blankets the tree trunks. I am blind, deaf, and mute.

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  • Kiersten Felch 5 months, 2 weeks ago

    I love the title and the balance it adds to the story

    • Kristy P Podruchny 5 months, 2 weeks ago

      Thank you! Titles are often the toughest words to put together.