When I'm Gone

The words rang out from the radio like a thunderclap. They exploded from the General Motors standard-issue speakers, and had I not been strapped into my seat, they'd have surely tossed me aside like so much rubbish. Only a few simple lyrics from a song so appropriately written could have such an effect.

I had an opportunity recently to go to the mountains of norther Arizona. They are smallish for what I would call mountains. They are rolling hills with many trees. Much different from the harsh and stony hills I knew in Colorado in my youth. The scrub desert became more lush the farther north I went. There was even a remarkable change when honest-to-God trees suddenly became the preferred ground cover. Arizona actually looked like a place full of life.

It took over three hours to reach the little mountain town of Pinetop. But tucked back in a neighborhood off the main drag, there was a cabin that was a little too close to the neighbors for my taste. However, the beauty of the place wasn't diminished in any way that I could tell. The faint scent of pine lingered in the air, lending some legitimacy to the town's name. And one could barely put a hand on one tree without being able to reach another.

For a long time I just stood among the trees and missed. I missed in a way that one misses a lost loved one, or a favorite pizza that is only available in one place. I missed the woods of my home in Missouri. I missed the scent of flora decaying on the forest floor. I missed the dampness of vegetation. I missed long walks along the spines and valleys of hills. I missed wading along creeks. I missed giving snakes and squirrels the respect of a wide berth. I missed, but not in a sorrowful way. I missed in a way that brought the comfort of fond memories that were still bright and vivid.

Every place I looked seemed perfect. Every boulevard I drove down was idyllic. The trees and grasses that lined the road ways were lush and vibrant. The glens and glades that flanked the hills were like those right out of a novel. If there were a more picturesque place to be, I couldn't imagine it.

I've thought about that place a lot in the last three weeks. It's kind of a shame that the weekend was so short. I could easily lose myself in that setting for time indefinite. And then there was this line from a song that made it all seem a little drab by comparison.

It's got mountains
It's got rivers
It's got woods to give you shivers
But it sure would be prettier with you

Would it?

I don't know for sure. But I can surely imagine. And it certainly would not have been less.