Sitting at my desk in downtown Boston last Thursday, I was watching sheaths of rain hit the windows and wondering when June would feel like making an appearance . What I wanted was a bit of real summer. What I wanted was the mountains.
Good thing I know a place for that- it just so happens that it’s halfway across the country. But what are homes for, if not to drag all your dirty laundry to with absolutely no notice on a last minute whim?
So with a bit of guilt tripping and my mom’s insane talent for finding impossible flights, I was checking into a flight to Colorado for the next morning. I felt the instant thrill of being able to say I was headed home for the weekend, a luxury I had not yet experienced in my two years of college.
My three siblings, who all live maddeningly closer to home, were already there or en route. Visions of non-ramen-based meals danced in my head.
The weekend was filled with catching up and taking advantage of the summer weather, but it was enough just to be home in the mountains again.
“In early June the world of leaf and blade and flowers explodes, and every sunset is different.”-John Steinbeck