Part of the welcoming committee

My elderly parents moved to Spokane on Sept. 7, 2000, arriving at sunset.

I flew here with them from Vermont (with a stop in Chicago) and my wife met us.

I had not driven us a mile from the airport when I saw a coyote trot across the road up ahead, lit up by my headlights.

“Welcome to the West,” I said. Or something like that.

I think about that animal sometimes when I go out to Spokane International. I wonder if he is still around.

Probably not.

But you never know. Perhaps what I saw 12 years ago was the storied trickster of mythology.

Maybe he’s still out there, greeting new arrivals. And then disappearing into the night.