Whenever I think about regrets, I think of Dad. After all, for his 35 years of life after choosing recovery he made it clear, while he offered his apologies and atonements, he was encouraged to embrace regrets as part of his journey.

Yesterday was our final day owning Montana property. Yes, after 34 years. The summer of 1990 with me seven months pregnant, Russ and I purchased five acres of land just 100 miles northwest of Missoula where we had met seven years earlier. Although neither of us was native to Montana, me from Oregon and Russ from California, we fell in love on that campus where we studied geology (him) and biology (me).

My graduate program and then our jobs took us to Seattle, and in 1990 we felt it was the last time we might be able to afford our little piece of the state we loved. A place we had spent weekends hiking up mountain drainages and swimming in high lakes. We didn’t know where or how we might be there, but knew it was meant to be as we found five acres on Lake of the Woods. We still laugh about that day when my adept map reading spouse informed the realtor he had the wrong property boundaries; the true location was even better. We knew we could afford to pay the property taxes and would decide later what it all meant. Over the next decades, busy with jobs and kids, aging parents and everything else, we might camp on the property and swim in the lake occasionally. As our own kids became adults we imagined what we might build, even drafting early plans for a simple home. In the last few years we got a bit more serious, taking down trees (Russ), hauling up those trees (Dede), pulling out invasive species (that kept coming back), putting in a well, and finally, creating a small building site and driveway. Russ gave more time and energy than me as I still had full-time work. You get the picture. Some of you have followed us on this slow, meandering journey.

But now for many reasons – some, I’m certain you can guess – we decided it was time to release our property. Time to focus not so much on taking out trees or weeding invasives, assessing building costs, or debating how much of the year we would or wouldn’t spend there. To simplify our lives. To use our time in the here and now for other bucket lists. To treasure the community of friends and family we have here, and to be free to visit those far away, including in other parts of Montana.

Regrets? Maybe, if we allow ourselves to cycle into those. Sentimental? Yes. Grateful? Absolutely. All of the memories we have, even of those short-lived times caught up in the moments and beauty of imagining “what next” have filled us with beauty. And, we are ready to move on. I remind myself of a parallel struggle several years ago after I made the decision to leave a job I’d had for nearly two decades. I knew it was the best decision, but I had to acknowledge and honor the sadness I felt losing the good things I had experienced earlier in the position. It helped me circle back to being thankful for the positive experiences, and grateful for the opportunity to hold those in my heart, while I moved on. This feels a bit like that. And yes, Dad would say, you got it Gumdrop.