In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

24 Leaving Bear Country You don’t see that every day, I say to them again and again, until they do believe it all can be seen every day, until they believe each early morning drive holds the kept promise of a mammoth black bear, loping in front of us and across the deserted divided Highway—dropping off into the deep ravine that runs alongside the road. seconds later, she surfaces; from her snout, a shake moves through her loose shaggy shoulders, shimmying all the way down to her rough broad rump. off the crystal drops fly and up into the air like feral notes of music. My kids have seen it all, seem impressed until they turn from the rear window, read the sign fast approaching. Leaving Bear County. They roll their eyes at each other—then snuggle down into their seats to re-enter their interrupted dreams, those places where the road ahead will always—no matter what 25 I’ve said—have signs alongside to notify exactly what they will see and when, whether or not I wake them from deep sleep. My children are full of dogged dreams that tell them it will be there—all of it—and each and every day, whenever they choose to wake and see. ...

Share