Changing Views...

Growing up along the majestic Wasatch Range, I found it hard to believe that there really was another side of the mountain. They were so big, so daunting. How could anyone climb that far? That high? Of course, I knew the stories of how my own ancestors came to be on the West side of these mountains. And, I figured there still must be a way to cross. But, in my small, contented world, I didn’t really think about what was on the other side.

As I grew older, my wanderlust led me on many airline flights over the mountains. The first time I looked down, from 30,000 feet, at the tops of the mountains I was amazed that the ‘top’ wasn’t just a peak, but the range was wide. The tops of the mountains went on and on; the snowy caps and rocky valleys were vast. I was grateful I wasn’t pulling a cart.

Like the bear who went over the mountain, I’m now on the other side, seeing what there is to see. It isn’t the first time I’ve lived away from my mountain home, and, once again, my view has changed. The mountains are on the West now; the morning sun comes up over the plains. The peaks are still majestic and my spot at the base of the mountain still secure, but now, I don’t wonder what is on the other side. I know. And I remember. And, some days, I long for that other place.

But, mostly, I’m glad to know that although the view from my window may change, the people under my roof are still mine. The distance from one side to the next may be far, but it isn’t insurmountable. And with a phone, it doesn’t seem so distant. The beauties that are found in one place are matched by new scenery in another.

I love living in ‘the tops of the mountains.’ Both sides.