On the Other Side of the Hills

I was driving home yesterday evening, and in the distance, the clouds on the horizon were piling up on each other until they looked just like hills. And I got so homesick. I've heard some people complain that mountains and hills feel like walls to them, and even (in rare cases) can create a sense of claustrophobia. But I'm the opposite. A hill in the distance has always been an invitation to me, tempting me to come see what is hiding on the other side. The opposite-- living in a place with no hills -- makes me feel like I am living in a bubble. I can see no boundaries so I can imagine no lines to cross.

So among other things from the Western Half of the United States, I miss seeing hills. One day, while living in Utah, I was looking at the blue hills in the distance. The next thing I knew, I was in my car and driving until I found myself on the other side. That's where I found these horses. They were living contentedly some thirty or forty miles from me in a place of dust and heat. But I would have never guessed them being there had I not answered the invitation to cross into their country.

So I continue to adjust in this beautiful, albeit flat part of the country. My boundaries, for now, must remain in my imagination.