As a seasonal worker, I kept the license from my home state for years, so I guess that could count. But it didn't, not really, because I was living in Nevada/Washington/New Mexico/Idaho/California; the venue changed with the seasons. Since then I've had licenses from three states, but I never stayed there long enough to have to renew. In fact, I never wanted to stay in one place that long. The horror! Wasn't it better to keep on the move, seeing new places? I thought this way for years.
|I recently went back to one of my favorite places for a book signing--the Sawtooth Mountains. I would have stayed here forever if there had been a long term job here.|
I went for a run a couple of days ago. My running has been cut way back as I work on the strengthening exercises that are supposed to help my knees and hopefully address the clunking I feel in one of them. But I needed to run. I'd just run a short distance, I thought. But I didn't feel like it, not very much. We have been encased in a thick, freezing fog that isn't much fun to be out in. You have to slip and slide through snow. I sighed and donned my spikes. It's actually better for me to run on flatter surfaces and we have few of those. The small park it would be.
At the last minute I decided to take my camera. I don't usually run with one, because you know, I run. But daylight was fading and I thought I could endure the monotony of retracing my steps over the same miles by taking some pictures. Haphazardly I aimed my point and shoot camera at some flocked trees. Days later when I looked at the pictures I saw that they captured what I didn't see: a strange and beautiful world of darkness and fog. I kind of like them.
|I think this looks like a painting...|
|Getting pretty dark....|
I couldn't stay long: I didn't have a headlamp and the last part of the run is on the road. As I headed down the last switchback, I passed Joe with his mutt, headed back in. Joe pushes the darkness, always, and I laughed to myself because I know that. There's all sorts of things you learn, living in one place for a long time. Like, just maybe, this is as good as it gets.
I don't regret my seasonal migrations, even as I see more settled friends be able to retire at a young age, even as I realize far-flung friends aren't really friends anymore, casualties of distance. Moving every six months for eleven years was the best gift of adventure. I wouldn't want to be in that life anymore, but I'm glad I had it. Those were my glory days, but I don't mean that everything is downhill from now on. Just different.
By the way, I approached the DMV with fear and loathing. I recalled when I had to go in Alaska to get a new state license. It took forever, and the DMV lady was famous for her efficiency and lack of smiling (we used to try to get her to smile. It never worked). More than one person slunk away near tears after being chastised for not having the right forms. Here, though, I was in and out in about ten minutes, with a nice picture! I can live with that for the next several years.