MISSOULA

Condescend the calmest riot in your mind
Find yourself in time

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ARRIVAL

5AM - Nashville

It's so jarring flying early in the morning. Everything is so dark and you can't see where you're going. The plane twists and turns and comes to a stop all you can see out the window are haphazardly flashing red lights. And then all of a sudden the plane speeds up and you're tipped backwards as the sparkling lights below grow smaller and smaller. 

10AM - Chicago

I find it appropriately ironic to be flying to a job interview with a stopover in my former home. To be honest, I rarely think of Chicago, which is funny because before I left I felt such a connection to it. Though as I shuffle off to my gate, I see the city through the morning haze; the iconic skyscrapers gleaming 15 miles in the distance. Maybe it's the 4 hours of sleep I'm working on, maybe it's my emotionally fragile straight, or maybe it's just me staring at the skyline, but god damn, I miss this place. 

3PM (MST) - Missoula

Off the plane. I give my phone number when renting the car and teared up when I said "615". Heavy bags under my eyes and chugging Diet Coke to keep myself awake. I navigate the foreign streets through the hills. Straight into a job interview, working on a couple hours of sleep, awake for my 14th hour.

***

LAYOVER

Beers today: Moose Drool, Montana Lager, Honey Summer Ale (all c/o Big Sky Brewing Co.)

For years I’ve dreamt of Missoula. Let’s forget for a moment that I’ve never been before. Fernweh, I believe it’s called. German word for longing for a place we’ve never been.

Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. I can’t even recall how Missoula wriggled its way into my consciousness. It seems to have always been there, in some shape or another, festering into some kind of abstract objective of an ideal life.

The beers act as my coping mechanisms of the multitude of thoughts running through my head. Years of dreaming about this little city haven't been for nothing: this place is incredible. Small town living, everyone knows each other, no god damn traffic, so much beer, and surrounded by stunning mountains on every side. And now I'm being handed the opportunity to come here and I can't convince myself to do it. Am I scared? Will I hate the job? Will I have to live here forever if I do come? The idea of going back to Nashville is KILLING ME. But why did I cry when renting the car? What is wrong with you, Hannah?

Maybe I'm too preoccupied with the term 'home'. It's really all I want, and I can't seem to find it. I see friends from all over find their perfect lives in a place and settle down, and I just can't. Perhaps I should be satisfied with the idea of America being home and just call it a day.

 And maybe stop dreaming of places that I’ve never known.

***

8/4 - DEPARTURE

The Missoula airport is a funny little place. It looks like someone's basement. There's wood paneling, taxidermy in every corner, and with it being only 4 gates big, I've been in houses that are bigger than this place. It’s a dream.

Despite its cramped space, there's a small outdoor area, a glass cube so visitors can soak up the mountains one last time before they leave. I already had a beer before coming to the airport- a creek-side pint at the Highlander brewery. I cried a little bit into that one, and I'm dangerously close to doing the same with my airport beer. I've already had to slide my sunglasses down to hide my weary, tired, sad eyes.

I reflect on the past 48 hours. Morning hikes in these gorgeous rolling hills and wandering through downtown, a short drive into the mountains, facing mighty bison, face to face. I could have a truck. I don’t really need one, but it just seems like the Montana thing to do. And maybe some kind of hound. We’ll go hiking together. This charming picture of a version of my life is a fleeting one. I can’t convince myself this is the storyline for me, even though I’ve been concocting it for years.

But I also can't stomach going back to Nashville. The future isn't looking as bright as it once was, and now I'm back to wandering aimlessly, twisting and turning in the dark.