Thesun came up, and we emerged from Four B's to discover a warm chinook blowing in.
Already the eaves were weeping, icicles thinning on trees and telephone wires.
This is what Montana does in midwinter: clears off and gets bitter cold, and then suddenly it's as warm and exhilarating as Easter morning.
Don't believe it for a minute, you tell yourself as the streets turn into trout streams, but the sheer pleasure of the feeling makes a fool of you.
You forget your scarf and mittens on a hook behind the door. You know it's still winter, but that's just what you know; the chinook is what you believe in.
The bear held my hand inside his coat pocket as we walked in silence back to the parking lot to meet my company's bus.
Before he kissed me, he asked me if I was ready. Ready for what I have no idea, but ready is how I felt. I was stricken with readiness. Humbled by it.
"I hope you have a wonderful life," I told him.
"You too," he replied before nodding stiffly and walking away.