Isabelle got in line twice when they were handing out kindheartedness.
And she double-dipped on warmth. And she completely ignored the pessimism line; just said “nope” and headed over to pick up her red hair and freckles. Then out the door and out-of-doors into northern Idaho to spread laughter all over the backcountry and bubbles all up and down the river. In the mud since she could walk and on the water since she was eight, Isabelle is more than at-home on the river, she’s at-one with the river. She calls it her “other mother.”
We all love Idaho and we all love the river but they don’t love us back the way they love Isabelle.
She’d gloat but, of course, she skipped that line.
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