Colorado-Wyoming (English/Anglais)

(Version Francaise)
(All photos are clickable to view larger)


I flew out of Orlando to Denver, on June 5, 2012. I was nervous; nervous to fly as usual.
The first rough spot was going through security. I had to put the backpack with the ashes on the conveyor belt and that was just too much to bear. I tried to tell the agents what was in it before they asked, but they were busy talking so they asked me what was in the bag; I couldn’t talk as I was crying, so I handed the TSA agent the envelope I was supposed to show them, which said “Cremated remains of Christine Bornert”. I had been thinking about the last time we had flown together and I had concluded that it was when we moved to the States, 11 years ago. This was not how we ever traveled.
The flight was pretty uneventful. After over 3 hours of flying, I saw the Rockies take shape on the horizon, a large, dark mass of mountains, far in the haze, but definitely there; a bit less impressive from above.

I waited forever in line at Budget to get my rental car –a Ford Focus. But finally, around 1 or 2 PM, I took the road towards Longmont, our old digs. The GPS took me off I-25 at 119, the southern side of Longmont. I went up Main Street and to Baker Street, where our old apartment still is.

Then I looked for lunch and ended up buying a sandwich at Safeway on Hover, close to road 66, which I then took towards Lyons. Road 66 ends at 36, which goes up a canyon towards Estes Park. In between Lyons and Estes Park, is a small mountain community -Pinewood Springs- where my mom used to live with her husband. I stopped at the 1^st house they lived in, which is visible from the road. It had been repainted beige –instead of red. The sight of it was also too much to hold tears, it really hit me hard.

I then took the driveway towards the 2^nd house they had, and for some reason it wasn’t as emotional. I probably had gotten it all out at the 1^st one. The house is further from the road, deeper in the hill. It hadn’t changed from what I could see. There was a new house next to it, which I remember being talked about, years ago when they had purchased their home; the old owner also owned the lot next to it and had planned this new house. A cute dog came up to me and I petted him. I wondered if he was Max’s replacement, but I don’t think he was. Max was my mom’s husband’s dog and they had fallen in love with each other.

I turned around and continued on to Estes Park. I only stopped there to set the GPS towards Loveland and Caprissa’s place and to call her, but she beat me to it. The weather was stormy, but the sun was out. I got some rain in the canyon. I cried a lot during that drive down the other canyon, on road 34. That blast from the past drive had moved me quite a bit.
I arrived at Caprissa’s just on time to view Venus’s transit across the sun, around 4:00 PM. Her landlord Bob is a big astrono my buff and had his telescope set up for the event. He had invited neighbors to a viewing party and I got to see it and even take a picture of it through the telescope. It was really an awesome sight.

Caprissa took me to her quarters downstairs and showed me my room. It had a nice mountain poster on the basement window well, so I had a room with a view!

I gave her mom’s wooden horse, that she had had since I can remember. I do not remember where it came from, just that it had always been there.

We had dinner –fruits and snacks- and talked for a while before going for a walk, around the lakes of the area.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

I woke up early because of the time difference. I got ready before Caprissa got up and saw her before I set off. She told me an interesting bear story of hers… She’s hilarious.

It was a beautiful, clear morning, with temperatures in the mid-60’s. I left at around 7 AM, towards Cheyenne, on I-25.

I stopped at the Wyoming border to take a picture of the sign. Mom was home.

I got on I-80 towards Laramie, and avoided Cheyenne: I knew I would be back. I did stop at a Visitor’s center to get a brochure of the Snowy Range, since it was the goal of my trip.

I stopped on the highway to photograph the lone pine tree, which I didn’t remember from our prior travels. I saw the Vedauwoo area, a bunch of rock formations where Blake took us the year we met him in Cheyenne.

"There aren't a lot of trees in southeastern Wyoming, and there were probably even less when the Union Pacific laid its tracks there in 1867. So when the railroad men saw a plucky little Limber Pine that seemed to be growing out of a granite boulder, they actually jogged the railroad sideways to preserve it. They called it "Tree in the Rock" and the name stuck, even though when you visit the tree it looks to be growing from a dirt-filled depression between several big rocks.

The railroad was eventually moved south, and the old road bed past Tree in the Rock was used as a wagon trail, then as the Lincoln Highway, and now as Interstate 80. The freeway splits around the tree, which has its own little parking area in the median and a spiky fence to protect it. It's called simply "Tree Rock" by its unromantic modern sign, which notes that "Limber Pines can live as long as 2000 years."

I went into Laramie to get a Subway sub to go for lunch. The GPS took me into town which was nice. It seemed like a nice place. Then I was off to Highway 130, towards Centennial. The road to Centennial is very bare, all prairie on either side, with herds of horses, cattle and a few antelopes. So good to see them!

Centennial is right at the foot of the mountains, at 8,074 ft (2,461 m) and the road starts going up from there. It goes up to about 10,800 ft, at Libby Flats Observation point.

From http://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/mbr/about-forest/about-area/?cid=STELPRDB5126870 : “The mountain ranges of Colorado can be seen from the Libby Flats Observation Point. At Snowy Range Pass, nearby Medicine Bow Peak, at 12,013 feet, towers over the byway. Travelers are close enough to the peak to explore the glistening year-round snowfields. It is easy to see how this part of the mountain range got its name.”

I stopped there and went to the actual observation point. The view was breathtaking. It was pretty windy and cold; it must have been around 10:30 AM. There were only two other people there, a couple. The weather was clear and I could see the far away ranges, to the South and West.

I kept going on the road, which took me closer to the big peaks and the lakes (Mirror Lake and Lake Marie). I was going downhill now, and after re-entering the forest, I deciding the turn around as I was past the good spots. I took Forest Road 200, a dirt road that went deep behind the peaks. It looked nice, but this wasn’t it. It had to be a bit more spectacular. I turned around and got back on the main road then stopped to eat my sub at Lake Marie West parking lot. This wasn’t it either: the terrain was too rocky and too exposed. Plus it was slightly busier, even though most people were probably hiking up –I saw a few cars, no people. I went to Lake Marie East anyways and even started going with the backpack but turned around. No, this wasn’t it.

I stopped again at the next parking spot. There was a little trail to an old miner’s cabin –at Medicine Bow Peak Overlook, but this still wasn’t it. I ended up where I started, at the Libby Flats Observation Point. There were beautiful mountain flowers on the ground, growing small but intense.

From http://www.goin2wyo.com/POI/srsb_2.html : “The Libby Flats Observation Point and Medicine Bow Peak Overlook are located at the highest point on the Snowy Range Scenic Byway at 10,847 ft. The mountain ranges of Colorado, the Sierra Madre Range and the Continental Divide can be seen from the Libby Flats Observation Point. "Tree islands" or krummholz are unique to this area. High winds and harsh conditions stunt the growth of these trees, leaving branches to form only on the leeward side.”

I took the little trail that looped around and went off of it, because even if there was very few people, I wanted to be completely alone and not visible from the road or the view point. I didn’t go very far, but enough trees and rocks were hiding my presence so I stopped when I found this big rock:

This was the place.

I set up the camera and got the balloon out first. She had blown a few for the kids shortly before her passing and I had kept two of them, with this day in mind. The flight really took out a lot of air. One of the two I had brought was completely empty and the second one had but one breath in it, but it was enough for the purpose I intended, which was for her last breath to be released in her beloved Wyoming.

Next, I got the buffalo hide out. She had picked it up in Yellowstone, on our very first trip, in 1996. I lay it next to the rock and then got her ashes, in the temporary urn, with a dove on it. I started spreading them, kind of under the rock but the wind took some. There was a lot and it was a bit stuck. I saved some for myself and to maybe leave some at Frontier Park in Cheyenne. I tucked the buffalo hair further into the bushes that grew under the rock, small thorny bushes and figured it would stay there unless some animal dragged it out.

 

When I was finished with the ashes, I read the poem I wrote a few months ago, first in English then in French. I wrote it in English first, so maybe that is why I got more emotional with that version.

I noted the coordinates the GPS gave me, but when I looked them up online later, they appeared to be wrong; too far south. I know where I left her remains.

I turned to talk to her, but instead said “No, you’re not there.” I do not believe she saw me; I believe she is asleep until Jesus returns. Maybe she will know of this trip one day. I did it for her memory, for her family and friends, and also mostly for me. I needed this journey.

I left probably shortly after 1 PM, back the way I came from. I had places to hit in Cheyenne and I was meeting Ginny and Layne around 4 PM.

In Cheyenne, my first stop was at the Pastor and his family’s house, who had hosted us for several Frontier Days. I didn’t seem to have changed much, except for the color (and according to Karyl, a new concrete wall outside).

2012

1997

After calling Layne and arranging to meet at 4:30 PM, I took Yellowstone road towards the Frontier Days Park, and saw ‘our’ Pizza Hut.

Got to the Frontier Days and parked at the headquarters, by the bronze status of Lane Frost and another cowboy that I don’t remember. I walked towards the arena and got in through the back. It was open so I went in. I started crying, seeing it for the 1^st time in years, all empty and full of weeds. A truck drove by and after it was gone I stepped in onto the outside track, where the wagon races used to take place (I don’t know if they have them anymore). I walked behind the East stand. It looked like a ghost town. All windows to the food concessions were boarded up, and the pens were full of weeds. I guess they only clean it up for the Frontier Days. The fenced up area by the chutes where cowboys get ready, which I know to be so noisy and full of leather, was empty and quiet.

Past it, towards the south, I saw an open gate to the arena and since no one seemed to be around –except a man in a bucket up on the B stand- I reached into my fanny pack to get a handful of ashes and walked in. I ended up behind a white wooden fence and crouched there to leave the ashes there. I could have walked into the arena, but didn’t want to be noticed and I figured it would be a little less disturbed there. I mixed it in with the dirt and took a picture.

I walked around some more and tried to get to the other side, but the underground tunnel was shut so I headed back to the car.

I went downtown and ‘over the bridge’ to get gas. ‘Over the bridge’ is where ‘our’ cowboy bar is, the one Dave had recommended us and that the pastor’s family was worried about; I guess this is not a very good part of Cheyenne, but during the Frontier Days it’s not noticeable. I didn’t go that far, I didn’t feel like it and my time was running out.

I headed back to town and the Emporium. I parked and walked there. I don’t know why I didn’t take a picture, I was too eager to get in and get my hug from Ginny! I broke down a bit, I thought I was down crying… so good to see her. Her daughter Layne, whom I had never met, pulled up and came in and also gave me a big hug. I hugged Melinda too –never knew her name until then, but remembered her face. Layne got her camera out and filmed our conversation. We talked about our story, their story. It was nice reminiscing and honoring the memory of my mom and Dave, who passed away last August at age 82. Dave had always been our Cheyenne connection ever since the first time we met him, outside the store, peddling souvenirs. Such a character!

Ginny and Layne took me to Little America, a resort and restaurant down the road, not far from I-25. The atmosphere was very nice, a little on the luxury side, quiet and inviting, in beautiful red tones. We got seated by a window with natural light to flood our table. We talked and ate. I had a Cheyenne burger, because I was in Cheyenne after all.

Before I left, Layne took me to the gift shop, and her and Ginny each picked a little token with a design and a word: Ginny got Friends, and Layne got Believe, because that is what her Dad always told her. She told me they only do that for family –the tokens are a family tradition of theirs. Ginny was not satisfied with “friends”, I don’t know what she had in mind, but she said it was all she could find.

We hugged again before I left for Colorado. A storm of hail was coming that night, and one was also pounding the Denver area.

Ginny

In the store, The Emporium in Cheyenne. Layne, Ginny and me.

1997, The Emporium with Dave.

I got to Caprissa’s at 8 PM. I found her later outside –I hadn’t noticed her when I came in. We talked, I told her about my day and showed her my pictures.

I don’t think this trip brought any healing per se, but it was a very positive experience and my God was there with me every step of the way, every tear shed, every little breaking of my heart; He holds me together, every minute of every day. The pain I feel is very deep, but I have this Rock in Him, this comfort, and this hope.

I took with me a very important thing Caprissa said to me also: we shouldn’t identify ourselves to another person or a job title, because those can be taken away. By extension, our true identity is in Christ who will never forsake us. I am so thankful for these shared moments with the people God put in my path and for the time honoring my mother in her beloved Rocky Mountains, God's very own cathedral.

I shot a few videos. The quality is not good because it was so windy (hard to hear anything I say) and the 1st one may make you motion sick, since it is taken from the car :-)

The poem I wrote and read:

In your home, there are endless prairies,

Massive buffaloes and tall mountains;

The wind blows on green grass and bald rocks,

And the air has the smell of freedom.

It’s called Wyoming, ‘large prairie place’,

For spirits bigger than the Rockies,

This vast radiant land, not of your birth,

You carried in your heart forever.

This was the place to water your soul,

Thirsting for freedom and open space,

Bucking and kicking your way through life,

Like a wild bronco no one could stop.

I wanted to say “Good ride, cowgirl,

The sweat and the tears were all worth it,

To see your face shine with pride and joy,

Your heart exploding for the Wild West.”

You were shaped with Wyoming dust

And it has called you back since your youth.

Here you are again, for good this time,

Before the Lord takes us in His Light.

Now I lay you here, where you belong,

With a Wyoming hole in my heart;

My friend, my roots, my love - My mother.

I cannot wait to see you again.

                          

Rattled

I am rattled. That is the word that seems to fit. As I get closer to the trip, I realize it is the most emotional journey of my life and the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
I cried all the way to daycare this afternoon... I find myself shaking inside and being very... well, emotional.

I got a message from the daughter of Dave and Ginny, from Cheyenne. I tried to contact the family for a little while because they mean so much in this process. I learned that Dave also passed away last year and it saddens me deeply. I look forward to see and hug Ginny and meet one of their daughters. Funny how some people leave a mark. I know my mom did too.

I'm getting things ready. A playlist. A list of things to bring -so many things to think about.

Mom was the queen of lists. She would write lists months in advance and start packing weeks before a trip. She was so organized -a little too much. I'd always make fun of her :-)


Pour ceux qui me lisent en francais, je suis desolee, je traduirai peut-etre plus tard, mais la je me vide, c'est moins structure. Mon depart pour le Wyoming approche, et je suis tres emotionelle. Je vais la laisser partir...

Preparing Wyoming

In less than a week, I will be in Colorado. I'm preparing for the most emotional journey of my life. My heart feels like it's been pounded with a meat tenderizer when I imagine it. I picture taking her to Cheyenne one last time, where we made so many good memories together.
Then on to the mountains.
I hope it will be sunny.
Words cannot express...

Here is a picture she took and edited.

Almost 6 months. Presque 6 mois.

It’s almost been 6 months. It feels like yesterday you were still with us.

I may sound like a broken record, but I went through more stuff today. I went to work and could not stop coughing even though I was feeling OK otherwise, so I came home and decided to take this opportunity to keep chipping at it, all those memories stashed in boxes, plastic sleeves and metal tins.

I decided to part with the cactus flowers from Arizona and the cotton puff from Louisiana, after taking their pictures. I kept the sequoia pinecone, from California.

I found wedding pictures – cut out in your fashion, without the ex-husband- and divorce papers. I stopped to cry a couple of times. The first time, what triggered it was thinking “How could someone not make it to 2012?” It was like realizing you had not kept up and were stuck in 2011 still.

The second time was when I found the birthday card you wrote to me for my 21^st, the year we moved to the States. The card says “To a purrrrrrfect daughter –Happy Birthday” (it has a cat in it). And you wrote:

“My so delicious daughter (your English was not that good!), (the rest is in French, I’ll translate it) ever since you turned 16, I have given you American journeys. Today, for your 21^st birthday, I offer you AMERICA! You have time, space, and God will do the rest. I love you. Your Mom (in English)

Another time was when I found a folded napkin and I knew exactly what was on it before I opened it, even though it was written 15 years ago. It was the address and phone number of a certain Bob, a very sweet man, we met in ‘our’ bar in Cheyenne. He was a Cheyenne resident and invited us to his table, we were ‘in’. He introduced us to another Bob who wanted to marry you and we met Blake around that time too. One day, we all went out to breakfast at about 4 AM after a night out with the cowboys.

I cannot listen to the National Anthem without crying anymore. I don’t hear it often; I don’t go to events where it is sung much. Last night, I went to a Magic’s game and this little girl sang it. I teared up. The Star Spangled Banner is you. I’m not patriotic, but you were. I can picture you standing up, beaming with pride, your hand on your heart, so happy every time it was played, because you were in your country, the one you chose for yourself, your dream come true.

The other day I talked to Mamie (your mom), and she knows about death and pain. She lost her mother at 37 (she was 62) and her husband at 58. She knows the pain takes time to settle in –and you had told me too, about your dad, “it’s the absence”. Mamie put her finger on it: it is the finality of it, the irreversibility that crushes us. Of course, I have faith this is not the end, but it is the mortal end, before we put on immortality. It is an end and it is damn painful.

Colorado, end of 2001

I know my and your tears will be wiped away, but now they are running warm. They are a blessing, a relief, a cleansing, a release, a healing.

I’m taking this song to Wyoming. It touches a deep part of me and reminds me of you. Another ‘freedom’ song. Another song that makes you soar.

 

Ca fait presque 6 mois. J’ai l’impression qu’hier encore tu étais avec nous.

On dirait peut-être un disque rayé, mais j’ai encore trié des affaires aujourd’hui. Je suis allée au travail mais je ne pouvais pas m’arrêter de tousser même si je me sentais bien autrement, alors je suis rentrée, et j’ai décidé de profiter de l’occasion pour m’occuper un peu plus de tous ces souvenirs dans des cartons, des pochettes en plastiques et des boites en métal.

 J’ai décidé de me séparer des fleurs de cactus de l’Arizona et de la fleur de coton de la Louisiane, après avoir pris leur photo. J’ai gardé la pomme de Séquoia, de Californie.

J’ai trouvé des photos de mariage –découpées à ta manière, sans l’ex-mari- et des papiers de divorce. Je me suis arrêtée pour pleurer quelques fois. La première fois c’était parce que j’ai pensé « Comment est-ce que quelqu’un puisse ne pas être en 2012 ? » C’était comme de réaliser que tu n’avais pas suivi, que tu étais restée coincée en 2011.

Une autre fois quand j’ai trouvé la carte d’anniversaire de mes 21 ans, l’année où on a déménagé aux USA. La carte dit : « To a purrrrrrfect daughter –Happy Birthday » (« la fille parfaite », avec un jeu de mots sur ‘purrr’ qui veut dire ronronnement). « Depuis tes 16 ans je t’offre des voyages américains. Aujourd’hui je t’offre l’AMERIQUE ! Tu as du temps, de l’espace et Dieu fera le reste. Je t’aime. Your Mom. »

Encore une fois quand j’ai trouvé une serviette en papier pliée et je savais ce qu’il y avait écrit dessus avant même de l’ouvrir, même si ça avait été écrit 15 ans auparavant. C’était l’adresse et le téléphone d’un certain Bob, un homme très gentil que nous avions rencontre dans ‘notre’ bar à Cheyenne. Il habitait à Cheyenne et il nous avait invitées à sa table et nous étions ‘in’. Il nous avait présenté un autre Bob qui voulait t’épouser et nous avions rencontré Blake à cette période aussi. Un jour nous étions tous aller prendre le petit déjeuner a 4 heures du matin, après une nuit a danser avec les cowboys.

Je ne peux plus écouter l’hymne national sans pleurer. Je ne l’écoute pas souvent car je ne vais pas souvent à des événements ou on le chante. Hier soir je suis allée a un match de basket de la NBA, et cette petite fille l’a chanté. J’avais les larmes aux yeux. « The Star Spangled Banner », c’est toi. Je ne suis pas patriote, mais tu l’étais. Je peux t’imaginer, rayonnante de fierté, la main sur le cœur, si heureuse a chaque fois que l’hymne était joué, parce que tu étais dans ton pays, celui que tu avais choisi pour toi, ton rêve réalisé.

L’autre jour j’ai parlé à Mamie et elle connait bien la douleur de la mort. Elle a perdu sa mère à 37 ans (elle avait 62 ans) et son mari a 58 ans. Elle sait que la douleur prend du temps a s’installer –et tu me l’avais dit aussi, a propos de ton père, « C’est l’absence ». Mamie a mis le doigt dessus : c’est la finalité, l’irréversibilité qui nous écrase. Bien sur j’ai la foi que ce n’est pas la fin, mais c’est une fin de mortel, avant que l’on revête l’immortalité. C’est bien une fin et ça fait bien mal.

Je sais que nos larmes à toutes les deux seront séchées, mais la elles coulent chaudes. Elles sont une bénédiction, un soulagement, un lavage, une libération, une guérison.   

J’emmène cette chanson dans le Wyoming (vidéo). Elle touche une partie profonde en moi et me rappelle toi. Une autre chanson de liberté. Une autre chanson qui te fait voler.

Dedication/Dedicace

Yesterday, I received a copy of « Wyoming Lifestyle Magazine » in which a Facebook friend of my mom’s (Linda) had the editor add a dedication to her. Linda thought it was small, but to me it means the world because I know she would have been so thrilled.

The photo is by DianaVolk who does amazing western photography and whom my mom was friends with on Facebook as well.

I’m not doing so good right now. I’ve had a tough day with the kids and I don’t know, the emotions are closer to the surface. Here is the page that appears in the magazine. (photos are clickable to view larger).

Hier j’ai reçu une copie du magazine “Style de Vie du Wyoming” dans lequel une amie de Facebook de maman (Linda) a demandé à son éditeur d’ajouter une dédicace pour elle. Linda pensait que ce n’était pas grand-chose, mais ca représente beaucoup pour moi, parce qu’elle aurait été tellement heureuse.

La photo est de Diana Volk, une photographe incroyable de l’Ouest et qui était aussi amie avec maman sur Facebook.

Je ne vais pas très bien là. J’ai eu une dure journée avec les enfants, et je ne sais pas, les émotions sont plus prés de la surface. (On peut cliquer sur les photos pour les voir plus grandes).

Traduction de l'encart: "Ce numéro est dédié à notre amie Christine, qui aimait le Wyoming et avait partagé avec nous ses souvenirs heureux… qu’elle repose en paix. Notre monde est plus beau de l’avoir connue."

14 Avril 1958-2012

It’s her birthday today. She would have been 54. I’m spending the morning at home while Keith and the kids are at church.

Usually dates creep up on me; I’m not good at anticipating birthdays and anniversaries. But today has been looming big for a while. The weight of her being gone seems a little heavier, because it’s been longer. Yet, when I look at pictures or things that remind me of her, she doesn’t seem that far. Time has stopped for her. She’s not missing us, she’s not hurting and I’m thankful for that.

The song below has really touched my heart. The lyrics are so perfect and the version by Selah is so full of freedom, I can picture her in her Wyoming with the wind in her hair, smiling from ear to ear.

When I go don't cry for me

In my father’s arms I'll be

The wounds this world left on my soul

Will all be healed and I'll be whole  

Sun and moon will be replaced

With the light of Jesus' face

And I will not be ashamed

For my savior knows my name  

It don't matter where you bury me

I'll be home and I'll be free

It don't matter where I lay

All my tears be washed away  

Gold and silver blind the eye

Temporary riches lie

Come and eat from heaven's store

Come and drink and thirst no more  

So weep not for me my friend

When my time below does end

For my life belongs to him

Who will raise the dead again  

It  don't matter where you bury me

I'll be home and I'll be free

It don't matter where I lay

All my tears be washed away

This is how I picture her…  (pictures are clickable to view better)

And because of this postcard we sent to ourselves (in France) when we were in Cheyenne in 1997 (our first Frontier Days). She says: “Happiness is complete in cowboy’s land”. And I say something stupid J

C’est son anniversaire aujourd’hui. Elle aurait eu 54 ans. Je passe la matinée à la maison pendant que Keith et les enfants sont à l’église.

D’habitude, les dates me prennent par surprise ; je ne suis pas douée pour me rappeler des anniversaires. Mais ce jour, je l’ai vu venir de loin. Le poids de son absence est un peu plus lourd, parce que ca fait plus longtemps. Pourtant quand je regarde des photos ou des choses qui me la rappelle , elle ne parait pas si loin. Le temps s’est arrêté pour elle. On ne lui manque pas, elle ne souffre pas et je suis reconnaissante de ça.

Cette chanson (vidéo) touche vraiment mon cœur. Les paroles sont parfaites et la version chantee par Selah est pleine de liberte, je la vois dans son Wyoming, avec le vent dans ses cheveux, avec un sourire jusqu’aux oreilles.

All my tears (Toutes me larmes) -traduction

Quand je partirai, ne pleurez pas pour moi
Dans les bras de mon père je serai
Les blessures que ce monde a laissé sur mon âme
Seront guéries and je serai entière

Le soleil et la lune seront remplacés
Par la lumière du visage de Jésus
Et je n’aurai pas honte
Car mon Sauveur connait mon nom

Peu importe ou vous m’enterrerez
Je serai chez moi et je serai libre
Peu importe où je gis
Toutes mes larmes seront séchées

L’or et l’argent aveuglent
Les richesses temporaires mentent
Venez et mangez au Paradis
Venez et buvez et n’ayez plus soif

Alors ne pleure pas pour moi mon ami
Quand mon temps ici-bas est fini
Car ma vie appartient
A celui qui ressuscite les morts 

C’est comme ca que je l’imagine (photo avec le Park Ranger et au Yellowstone). (On peut cliquer sur les photos pour mieux les voir).

Et aussi à cause de cette carte postale que l’on s’était envoyée en France, quand nous étions à Cheyenne en 97 (nos premiers Frontier Days).