A good place. For salvation.

Salvation. Salvation. The small Montana town of Livingstone. That was my salvation. On my visit. To Yellowstone National Park. With Italian amore Cristina and Italian friend Giovanna. Both gals  enjoyed Yellowstone immensely. I did, too. But not quite as immensely as Cristina and Giovanna. Instead, Livingstone was my highlight. My delight. My unexpected salvation. If  I had been traveling alone, Livingstone would have become my permanent home base. I fell in love. With Livingstone. And some of the other small and quaint towns an hour or so drive. Outside of Yellowstone.  A safe distance from the beaten tourist tracks and traps.  Give me the relative quiet and peace and solitude of Livingstone. Where many of the downtown buildings still have their 19th century Western American facades. After driving endless miles. In a rental car. And having a near-death experience. In a crash. In Yellowstone. I had a need. To stay in one place. For a day or two or three. Livingstone was my breather. Where I found solace.  At the moment, Cristina and Giovanna are back at the lodge. In the swimming pool. Cavorting and splashing. Like mermaids. I am in downtown Livingstone. Happy. Happy.  My soul. My sanity. Is being saved. Right here. On the streets. I meet a woman. From San Francisco. A writer. Like me. She's scouting Livingstone. As a place to live out her retirement years. She's not so sure about Montana in the wintertime. I tell her that I solved the winter problem. By spending winters with my amore. In her homeland. Sardinia. Where there's no snow. No freezing temperatures. All winter. Where I sit under palm trees and umbrella pines. Meanwhile, Cristina spends summers. With me. In Minnesota. Giving us the opportunity to explore America. Together. Two years ago, the Grand Canyon. Now Yellowstone. And so much more to come. Opportunities. To find the likes of Livingstone. Where I have tracked to the post office. To mail postcards. For Cristina and Giovanna. I sit on a bench. In front of the post office. Until the rain. Forces me to seek shelter. On another bench. Tucked under the overhang of an interior decoration business. Called Paperairplane Design Co. It's closed. But a half-hour later the owners/proprietors, a husband and wife team. Come by. And we have a casual and friendly chat. Getting to know each other.  She's a lifelong resident of Livingstone. He came 20 years ago. Expecting to never leave. We may stay in touch. Forever. That's the way it is. In Livingstone. Where everyone seems to stay acquainted.  Yes, a good place. For salvation. --Jim Broede