I Had Not Been Forgotten

English is my third language so this might not come out exactly right, but I've been wanting to put this somewhere for two years. I came to Montana from Ethiopia seven years ago. Orthodox Christian my whole life, but what happened here I did not have in Ethiopia. Hiking alone near the Clark Fork river, autumn, leaves changing. I stopped because there was a quality to the light I cannot describe in any language I know. In Amharic I might say something was being poured. I stood watching it for a long time and while I watched I had the feeling of being watched back. Not frightening. The way you feel when someone who loves you is looking at you. Seven years in America, hard in ways I won't go into here. But that afternoon by the river I understood that I had not been forgotten. That is the thing. That is all I want to say. I had not been forgotten.