An unexpected gesture that I didn’t think I’d become to love so much. Living in the southwest Montana mountains is “the wave.” It’s one of those simple life reminders that we don’t have to go over the top in order to touch another one’s spirit and it happens out of town, just a short distance from Bozeman.

It’s not a big, enthusiastic motion. Just a quick lift of the fingers from the steering wheel as someone passes on a backroad.

I remember the first few times it happened, long ago. I’d instinctively wonder if I knew the person, then realize I didn’t. I’d lift my hand anyway.

Now I do it without thinking.

There’s something reassuring about it. On these long stretches of road, where one can drive for miles without seeing another house, that little wave is a reminder that you’re not entirely alone. People notice who’s out here. They slow down when someone’s pulled over. They stop if someone looks like they need a hand.

It isn’t dramatic. It’s just neighborliness, stretched across miles of mountain road.

You might not know who’s driving toward you, and you may never see them again. But for that moment, there’s a simple acknowledgment: Hey. I see you.

Maybe that’s part of what makes living here feel safe. Not that nothing ever happens, but that people still seem to look out for each other.

The mountains get most of the attention around here.

But sometimes, it’s a stranger on a dirt road, lifting two fingers from the wheel as they pass, that makes this place feel like home.