Moving to the Kootenays

After we crossed the Canadian border, exported and imported cars, paid taxes, made note of which crossing had nice officers, filled out forms for residency, had our pictures taken – once for the feds, once for the province.

After we helped three men move our things into the house, box after box – the couches, beds, chairs looked dirty in the fresh, clear light.  After our nervous dogs shit in the bathroom, by the fireplace, in the downstairs hall.

After we pulled dead grass from the hillside, mowed the lawn, trimmed overgrown bushes to see the lake, drained and refilled the koi pond, fixed the pump and waterfall, bought and placed oriental yard statues.

Once we’d found the grocery store, hardware store, bank, gas station, off-leash dog park, the way home over and over, where to park the cars, recycle cardboard, plastic, Styrofoam, yard waste – we fell into bed.

Landed in a place where my schtick seems silly against the pine covered mountains, vast blue green lake, flower basket town, blossoming trees.  Where our new home rests in the glow of a first quarter moon.

Where I caught a glimpse of my soul - floated in purple, cool molten, miles deep. My current life, a thin residue above lifetimes of lessons, cascades of wisdom. Pained memories, floating on top, like a few brown leaves.