I exited I-15 and drove east, up slightly sloped streets. Up to the mountain.
Nothing is home like the curves of my mountains against the sky. All mountains bring a sense of comfort; I guess that comes with the territory after being raised for 20 years in their shadow. But these are my mountains. Familiar. My soul settled into the crags and ravines, and I was at peace.
Peace. What I felt had been missing all semester.
I can't help but feel like I'm at a turning point in my life. Like what was, never will be again. There's a foreshadowing of change. And I want to run full speed-ahead while desperately clinging to all details of the past.
My dad's beard is bleaching. It has given up its salt-and-pepper coloring for a soft white.
And I feel anxious.
and terribly overwhelmed.
But I know this is where I need to seek a haven. Under the watchful eye of my mountains.