Path to the Mountains
From a journal entry during a vacation to the beach a few years ago... I really do prefer the mountains over the beach. I do like the waves and the beautiful sunsets. The stars are impressive as well, assuming the ambient lights are not much of a factor. But, the mountains feel more like home. I am sure that sounds strange coming from someone raised in Illinois and now living in Indiana, where the elevation changes could really be measured in inches. But, I am not talking about it feeling like home because it reminds me of my childhood or teen years. I am referring to a deeper longing. A home that is an echo of something from the past. A past in which I am only vaguely familiar. A memory that may lie somewhere in my genes. At the beach, I feel like an intruder or at best, a guest. It is a place at which I am never entirely comfortable. But, a mountain! I belong there! I may not know all of the ways, but my roots are there. My soul is there. My heart is there. In the