I worked hard to use the gratitude. We had two long walks in the sun. Our friends came for dinner and Bader did perfect hit soft turns to the left in the yard, which he can’t do in the indoor arena. I kept saying to myself how thankful I was for the sun. For the sun. For the sun. I wore sneakers again and no jacket.

But it didn’t feel right. We talked with family on the phone while their turkeys were in the ovens and they felt so much further away than usual. The pop pop pop of assault rifles being shot off on Cabin Butte sticks with me. Even with the sun, the weather advisory that popped up in my phone about upcoming snow brought up that anxiety again. We are so far from home. This is our new home. We are so far from home.

We got two gift baskets, welcoming us to our new home. This is your home. Welcome and Congratulations! Those words make my heart sink a little deeper. I see photos of the beach and realize that being adjacent to the sea might have been my lifeline, without me even knowing it. I thought I could easily trade it for big sky, but I think I was wrong. I put kindling in the empty baskets and eat up all the little snacks. Congratulations, and welcome.

I’m trying. Poor Gary can’t try. He just wants to go. I’m trying to get us back for a visit and without endless buckets of money it’s going to be hard. Just to go home. Just for a week. Our friends mentioned how the real estate market here is now tanked. That’s our home you’re talking about. The one I wish we could trade in. Trade back for our old one, that creaky little beach shack, with the neighbors peering in from every angle. With nowhere to walk the dogs. And the traffic. And the bustle. Home is where the heart is, be grateful for a roof over your head. And the snow’s coming back in, you’ll take photos and play with the dogs in it, right? That’s what you do. It’s supposed to be fun. You weather the storm. You’re grateful. You follow your breathing. You toss the ball. You put a foot in front of the other. You say thanksgiving for every wrong move.

You wait for the sun again. Even though you know, at home it’s already out.