I can see the mountains!
Cats: miscellanea|
They’re lovely. It makes me sad.
Seeing the mountains isn’t depressing in itself. It’s that I see them so very rarely now. Smog. Only after torrential rains that cause havoc and devastation in other parts of the state is the air clean enough for me to see the shining peaks of the Sierra Nevada.
They’re so clear and real today. It reminds me of when I was a little girl and lived even farther west. Back then I could see them like this almost any day that wasn’t foggy and overcast. Now, even when the sun is shining, more often than not that magnificent range is no more than a dull smudge (see photo above) relegated to the periphery of my vision. I forget it’s there.
Days like today make me think of how I’ve lost that sight so gradually. It slowly became more hazy and unnoticed over time. Kind of like other aspects of my life.
When I was a little girl I could see clearly. Like those mountains, there were possibilities jutting up proudly in the distance; always there, but just out of reach. But I could have them if I wanted them, if I were willing to try to get there. Then, somehow, they became less noticeable until they were completely forgotten.
Except on days when the air has been cleared by a storm of one kind or another. Sometimes it’s like the gentle cleansing of a light spring rain, sometimes it’s the windy fury of thunderstorm.
But I see.
I see and it’s beautiful, like today. It exhilarates me to remember, and it saddens me that I’ve forgotten.
And I resolve to keep the memory of what I feel in these moments when I see clearly, so when everything is muddled again I still know that they exist. Beyond current perception, perhaps… but they’re there.
Possibilities don’t disappear any more than those mountains do. It’s the ability to see them, know they’re there, look for them, and even go TO them that I have to remember.
