Lists and lists and lists of things

I tried to write, meant to write, and didn't or couldn't a few weeks ago. A little girl, 12 years old, died and I wanted to write it all down, but... well, I didn't. She got drunk and got in a car and drove home. Almost made it, but didn't. The community hurt, still hurts, will probably always hurt, but I think and hope that it changes. That something changes. I hope. We all do.

And now there's everything else. Mom visits and pumpkin carvings and students that are wonderful and students that are less wonderful. Or at least have less wonderful days. There's birthdays and snowfalls (not here, but not far away... drive for half an hour and you're covered in the stuff. It's -4 in the morning when I go to school these days... COLD when the fire's gone out). There's Halloween and Halloween costumes and parties and parties and costumes and pumpkins and candy and fireworks.

And there's other visits. Special ones, long ones, ones that aren't vacations because they last 6 weeks. They may last a winter and a spring. They make your heart beat a little off kilter and they make you smile looking at the ground because you know you've already started to blush. Just a little bit.

Or maybe a lot.

The Lake

One of my students told me last week that he couldn’t wait to go to the lake. I asked him about the impending weather, and what he did at the lake in the fall. Where I come from, when folks talk about going to the lake, they usually mean Windermere - condos, cabins, a lake and a beach. Vacation time. In Victoria folks usually mean that they’re going swimming, tanning, gallivanting at one of the many many nearby lakes. I assumed the same in Bella Coola. There isn’t really a place to swim at the wharf, and it’s DARN cold. Maybe there’s a lake where people go and fish or hunt or just hang out. Ends up there’s a city (or somewhere that’s big enough to have a Tim Hortons, a McDonalds, a KFC AND a Zellers) where people go to spend money and buy stuff. Really, that’s what people do in Williams Lake. The Lake. 487 km away. Up The Hill. “The Hill”. It’s a hill alright. 1 hour of the 5ish hour drive is unpaved, and about 20 or 30 minutes of that is on The Hill. People make up stories, and I’m sure some of them are true. Someone went over on it last year. Dropped a LONG way. And parts of it are 1 lane... but only kind of. It’s like a logging road, but it’s our only road. And it SURE is beautiful in the fall.

So I went to the Lake. And it was good. I went and I shopped and I spent money and I bought stuff. I drank coffee and ate out at restaurants that didn’t make my stomach feel gross. I bought organic cheese. I went to the river and drank beer and ate chocolate and hung out with my friends. I bought my dog a bone. I bought myself new bright red sheets. I missed my home and was over-stimulated by people and lights and noise. I hung out with another grizzly bear, this one smaller than the last, probably a female. I hung out with Heather a lot. She’s my Teacher Assistant, and my best human friend in town. Her and George duke it out for best alive friend. Sometimes the cedar tree with the rope swing tries to get in on the bets, but she doesn’t follow me and laugh at my jokes and slobber all over me.

The Lake. The Hill. The Valley. My home.