Mountain Memories


I have loved the mountains since I was small. My father worked for a big corporation, but one of those guys that got transferred a lot. The thing is I think he took jobs that no one else would take so it would allow him to rise up the corporate chain more quickly.
The thing is it allowed me to spend my informative years in the west. I know from photo albums that I went through the Dakotas. I think I remember seeing Mount Rushmore. I know I saw mountains. Some in the distance, some up close. Sometimes even standing upon them.
I remember going to Little Big Horn and all I saw was rolling hills. I barely recollect the river at Great Falls, but I do remember the home we lived in. It was in a new suburb then. I also recall the winter and opening the front door and seeing snow all the way to the top of it due to being blown against the house. It was still very deep, my head scarcely allowed me to see over it has my older brother pushed his way out ahead of me as I followed him.
The house in Billings was older. There I got stunk by bees a lot. One thing I did enjoy was watching the planes take off from the airport which was atop a plateau next to the city. I have never truly been able to return to the west for a long period of time since I grew up. It is one of those things I truly regret.
The last time was in the west I was on I-40. It was summer and it was hot. One thing that amazed me though was where sections of the interstate either in Arizona or New Mexico that were actually build upon lava flows. It is something that people never even think twice about, but it was totally fascinating to me.
But back to the mountains. My best memories of mountains were in Salt Lake. Once again my father purchased a home in a new subdivision. The mountains were right there. Every day they were there. I loved those mountains. I would walk to school and church looking at them. They were beautiful. I would play in the field behind that house. It even had a sand dune in part of it. I learned to understand why they said Indians would bury people in ant hills. A few yard from my backyard I came upon a huge colony. It had to be a good yard in diameter. It was a fascinating and exciting time. I can honestly say I was happy. The happiest I have ever been.
I know I can never recapture those days ever again. I do wish to at the very least try to revisit some of those memories as I make new memories. Memories I know I will carry with me throughout all my live as I have carried those memories of my childhood.

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