Others grew up here. Loved it, hated it, were indifferent. Got up, worked, did the homework, ate, went to bed, as it goes. Crossed the mountains, by foot, or skis, or ATV. Waited for the school bus in the morning. Harvested whatever the crops by the end of summer, were on first name basis with the people at the grocery store. Sat by the river, furious at their parents for reasons long forgotten. Years later, buried their parents. Fought the plans for the hydro power plants, built the dams for the reservoirs. Stopped by for a chat a few farms down the valley every now and then simply because they felt like it. Moved away looking for opportunities, stayed for the security, stayed because it was home, the only one.
I’m merely passing through. Slowly but it won’t take long. Approaching only the train station by the foot of the mountain.