Minna Honkakoski

for the family that surrounds you now. Yet the joy cannot last forever, and your time in this awesome country must come to an end. You wake up before dawn, the stars still faintly shining in the deep blue sky. The air is freezing; it burns your throat as you inhale your lasts breaths of Silverton. The mountains are dark, still, and deathly quiet. As the car makes its way back up the mountain road and away from your home, you feel the coldness of the mountains seep its way into your heart. You think of all the time that will come to pass: when there will be faces missing from the poker table; when the pictures on the wall will decay and fade into the past; when memories of Silverton will be filled with a chill and the song of the mountains with a deep, pained groan. Outside the car, the mountains stand tall, steadfast in their place, constant through all time. They stand guard to your thoughts, they watch over your joy and your pain, freedom and loss, death and life. Every year you will return, and every year something will change in the little town of Silverton. New faces will appear; old ones will be lost. New memories will be made, and past memories will ache. The song of the town will roar brazen with hope, and whisper exhausted with devastation. And all the while the mountains will stand guard-unmoving, unchanging, unrelenting. They watch life spring up and death tear down; they live through bitter snow and brutal sun; they gaze upon blazing fire and pouring rain. Yet through it all, they stand. Powerful, steadfast, strong. For all time before and for all time to come, the mountains will stand, guardians of this aching, soaring, beautiful song of life.

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