After Dallas, after St. Paul and Baton Rouge, after too many men gone with skin the shade of you, after all this, I waved good-bye. A week we’d spent here in the cool of these mountains, and the plans already in place for just me to remain. I stood amidst the perfume of sweet air and sharp evergreens, stood with my hand raised while you journeyed away. Next week, I called after you. I'll see you when you return next week. 130 miles between this mountain and our home.