a sense of place
Wednesday, December 2 
A view of Bozeman at dusk from Hedvig's Trail.
We have several trails around Bozeman where I walk Angus and can look out over the whole town. I love to go at dusk when the sky softens you and all the concerns of the day come back with a little gentler perspective.
I recently realized that I’ve been here nearly 18 years, and I’m still completely in love with this town. It’s not perfect place; I could go on about limited job opportunities, cost of living, poor planning for growth that leaves certain streets a bottleneck of frustration…I think that welling up I feel inside at dusk or whenever I return home from a trip comes from finally having a sense of place.
Many people grow up with a sense of place, of “I grew up here, in this house, on this street, with these neighbors.” By the time I was twelve I had lived in Illinois, Michigan, Tennessee, Colorado and then Utah. The upside of it was that I got to experience different parts of the country and became used to doing what I had to do to break through being an outsider amongst other kids who’d grown up in that place and known each other for years. It still serves me well in new situations. The downside was I never really felt like I belonged.
It wasn’t until the years started stacking up in Bozeman that I realized the comfort in knowing the seasons of a place, having favorite trails, a coffee shop, to know the people around you in a way that if something bad happens to one of them you all huddle and do what you can do to make it better. These comforts require staying put for a spell.
Ten years ago my parents’ house burned down. It was an unfathomably terrible thing that cost them pets, possessions, their sense of safety and I’m sure much more — but to tell you any more would be to infringe on their story. In any case, that house was the house I spent my high school years in, which live in my memory as rough years. So when it burned, my sadness was for my parents. I felt little attachment to that home.
Maybe I would have felt the emotional impact of the loss of that house had I helped them sift through the charred remains of their possessions and my past. Yes, I just wrote that: When my parents’ house burned down I did not go help them. I still can hardly believe that. At the time, I had three young children and a marriage that was struggling. My own house was falling apart.
I’m so thankful for where I am today, now. Here. And Mom and Dad, I know I’ve apologized to you for not being there then, but should anything bad ever happen again, please know that I will so totally be there for you. I can do that now. I’m in a better place.
Reader Comments (7)
Your Mother's comment after their house burned down: "Well, we were saying we needed to de-clutter. . . ." It's clear to me where you got your sense of humor. :-)
Another lovely post. I've been feeling the same way lately, about a sense of place. I'll have been in southwest Montana for 9 years in a few days. Not as long as you, but longer than any other place I've lived. Part of me gets restless and wants to try someplace new, but most of me feels like this is really home.
I envy that sense of place. I've been here for 11 years now, the longest I've stayed in one place since leaving Baltimore, and still don't feel like I belong. Although I do love our little house in the burbs. I guess for me home is just wherever BroJohn and the crazy cats reside.
Mary: Ha! I can so totally hear my mom saying that...
Melynda: Yeah, when I get restless I know it's time to plan a trip! I love winter here, but just today the frigid temps had me fantasizing about a trip to southern Utah in the Spring.
FaveAuntie: Yeah, and you guys have made that stylish yet comfy house more and more your own as you've remodeled it.
( Clicking Heels ) there is no place like home , there is no place like home. I miss Bozeman more than ever. No matter where I live and no matter how long the mountains will always be home. I think the longest I ever live one place at one time was 7 years in Bozeman. But not in one place.
I used to feel that about Salt Lake and then Missoula. I struggle to feel like Bozeman is home. I struggle t find a place that I fit in, here. I feel no affinity or loyalty to the place (hence, I will forever be a Griz fan). But I understand what you're saying. Completely.
I know what you mean about sense of place. I've lived in 31 one homes in 32 years. I ache for the house where I can let things accumulate & where I'll have to do actual maintenance. Such a beautiful post.
(Thanks for visiting my blog, too.)