These Mountains

These mountains. These mountains have always been a staple of me. 

From a childhood spent bouncing between feuding parents, like a little white ball being slammed between ferocious wooden paddles, these mountains. These mountains were my landmark. These mountains calmed my sadness, gave me peace and a sense of direction.

These mountains signaled that in no matter which direction I was headed, North or South, I was almost home. Halfway between a cozy little ranching town and a bland oil and gas city. Every summer, every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, every spring break, and back to summer again, year after year, after year, and repeat, these mountains.

Then one day, these mountains went away. I was given a new set of mountains. Ones where the sun sat behind them, not rose over them. My world was upside down. My cardinal directions flipped. North was South and South was North. Nothing was ever truly right with those mountains, they were always a little weird to me, I could never quite figure out their purpose. But, eventually we found friendship. It didn’t take long for me to get my bearings, those mountains were always in the west, always. 

I found my landmark to the North, a landmark on its own, a first of firsts fourteener type of you will. And another landmark to the South, one that I would find myself staring at for hours on hour on end, a pair that no matter how hard I tried, always reminded me of boobs. Breasts? Nope, definitely boobs. I always liked those busty Spaniards.

But those mountains, those mountains could never measure up to mystery and savage geologic history of these mountains. These mountains, in which generations upon generations used as landmarks before me, would be six years before I would see again. I vowed never let these mountains out of my sight for too long, ever again.

Nowadays, I’m in the best of both worlds. I am no longer a ping-pong ball caught between a fucked up, doomed from the start marriage from hell. I grew up. Okay, who are we kidding? I’m growing up. I’m no longer allowing myself to be controlled, manipulated, or lied to. I put a stop to that. 

My directions are solid, literally and metaphorically speaking. I know exactly where North and South, East and West point, although one mountain in particular likes to play mind games with me, thanks to its resemblance to that other landmark fourteener type mountain from my past. These days the sun both rises over the mountains and sets behind them. 

And these mountains? Well they’re here too. Still my favorite landmark. Still signaling I’m almost home, or that I am home. But these days, these mountains also beckon in the direction of fun, adventure and excitement. Past, present and future, these mountains. These mountains are memories. These mountain are home.