Home from Montana: Family, Memories, and the Big Sky

I returned home last night with a full heart and a camera full of images. I spent twelve days away visiting family in Montana, and half of that time was on the road. Montana lives up to its “Big Sky Country” reputation—not only in spirit but in geography. Driving from my sister’s town to where other relatives live can take thirteen hours. Despite the miles and hours, every day I shared with my sister Becky was a pleasure. We talked the whole time—really, we never ran out of things to say. There was one stretch when I nodded off in the back seat and missed a couple of hours, but by then we’d picked up our other sister, Susan, and the conversation easily picked up where it left off. It was simply wonderful.

My sisters: Becky (left) and Susan

The days in Montana were filled with catching up: meeting fiancés, holding new babies, slow coffee conversations, and simple dinners of burgers from the local Tastee Hut. The expansive Montana sky offered evening sunsets that still take my breath away. Those wide, blue skies felt like a backdrop to every memory we made.

It was especially meaningful to stay in the house where I grew up. The farmhouse reached its centennial milestone this year (or possibly last), and my sister-in-law has it decorated with care. Those rooms hold so many memories, and in the three days I stayed there we added more: quiet moments on the porch, shared stories that looped between laughter and tears, and the comfort of familiar corners that never really change even when people do.

One afternoon we sorted through Mom’s recipe files with the idea of someday turning them into a family cookbook. Sitting around the kitchen table, we sifted through handwritten notes, clipped recipes, and the familiar stains of meals long made. Those recipes are a map of our family—meals that marked holidays, everyday dinners, and the comfort foods of childhood. We told “remember when” stories with each card we opened, laughing at familiar punchlines and rediscovering small details that had slipped from memory.

We also felt the heat—Montana treated us to temperatures over 100 degrees during my stay. It reminded me anew how grateful I am for air conditioning and other small modern comforts that make those hot days bearable. Despite the warmth, every moment felt richly lived: long drives, late-night conversations, and the slow pace that lets you really be with people.

I took a lot of pictures—283, to be exact—and while I can’t share all of them at once, I’ll be weaving more scenes and snapshots into future posts. For now, I want to close with the reason for this trip. The main purpose of coming back was to spend time with Mom. Visiting her was the heart of the journey.

The visit with Mom was tender. Dementia has taken many of her words, but not her warmth. Her hugs were genuine, and her laugh—though sometimes thin—still sounded like her. Even though I had prepared myself for the changes that come with the disease, seeing those changes firsthand was still heartbreaking. I found myself choked up at times, moved by both sorrow and gratitude.

One moment stands above the rest: looking Mom in the eye and telling her, “I love you, Mom.” Those three words mattered more than any other gesture I could make. They were simple, true, and those words felt like the most important thing I could bring home with me. For me, that was the most precious memory of the trip.

There’s a lot more to share—stories, photos, and small family moments that deserve their own space. For now, I’m unpacking images and memories, grateful for time spent with sisters, relatives, and the woman who gave us all so much. Montana’s big sky and the warmth of family made this visit unforgettable.