I think I lost my voice somewhere between the Lochsa and Lolo. Maybe I lost it when I fell on a tree stump and got a sick bruise. Or maybe I lost it when we reached the hot springs a mile upriver from the highway and we had the whole pool to ourselves for the evening. Maybe I lost my voice when it started to snow, lightly, and fog seeped in through the trees and blended with the steam. Maybe I lost it when I realized I only have one winter left in Missoula after this one and part of me wishes I could take Montana winters with me everywhere I go. Or maybe I lost it between the Cheetos puffs and Peppermint Hershey's Hugs.
Maybe I lost it when I almost fell backwards into the river trying to put my yoga pants on but had an arm there to catch me, literally.
Maybe I lost it when I knew at that moment what everything had started to mean.
To this past weekend, you were the prettiest I've ever felt.