The Valley

When I was a small tyke...like four or five, I used to look out over the valley of Utah (i.e., Utah County) from our front porch. it seemed like a big place. I would look out at West Mountain, and I wondered what was over those peaks. I didn't know it was more of Utah. I thought Utah was just the valley and that everything beyond the mountains was some other state or place. It's sort of funny how small the world is when you are only four or five.

Now I know better, of course. I know that this is just a small part of a much larger state. I know that the mountains don't even enclose all of Utah County, really.

The world is a big place. And this place is only a small part of it. But I miss it.

It's strange to feel torn between here and the rest of the world. I have lived all over these United States. And I love that. I have wanderlust. But this week has been different. Every time I look at Mount Loafer, I feel a twinge of homesickness. And then a longing sets in...a longing for home. Can anything ever be more familiar than the place you grow up? It becomes embedded in you. I've wandered the streets of Newark. I've driven all over Northern Virginia and D.C. I've even explored Rockwall, Texas and Las Vegas. And they are all fine places.

Okay maybe that is a lie. Newark is far from fine. Interesting. Eye-opening...but not fine.

Yet nothing is like this valley. Nothing. Nothing is home the way these mountains are home. I love them. If only. If only I could get a good job here that would pay all the bills. If only I could build a house that looked out on Mount Loafer. I'd get up every day and look at that mountain. I don't know if I could ever get tired of it.

Maybe home becomes dearer because you are away from it. Maybe. Oh my cursed wanderlust...it actually might be dying. Maybe I just want to come home.