This is my mountain. Sure the nickname is presumptuous. Its a little inside joke I share with myself. I love Seattle and I love Mt Rainier. I love how it changes color and reveals different parts of itself on different days based on the cloud cover. For as long as I've known my husband I've described to him this very vantage point as my favorite, Mt Rainier from an airplane window. It's like someone took a giant fist and punched it up through the clouds. Experiencing it while suspended in the sky can shift my mind to a spiritual place and make me feel connected to lost loved ones, the heavens, nature and all of its beauty.
So its fitting, and ironic, that 15 years later, my husband flies into SeaTac at least once a month for work. In a thoughtful gesture he snaps a photo for me whenever the view of my mountain presents itself. At home in the flat lands of the Midwest with three young children navigating school schedules and carpools, I'm both envious and not envious of his trips.
But mostly I am glad that he takes this photo on his trips because it makes me feel connected to a place I love and to a person I love. It provides an important reminder that while I am bogged down with it all, there is more. Sure, these errands and schedules are the biggest things in my world, but the world is much bigger than this.
My husband was gone this week and it was a long week. A really long week. The kids were sick and sleepless nights ensued filled with non-stop laundry cycles. During the days, spring activities were in full swing with sports and end-of-the-school-year events. Busy, sick, tired. That was our week.
We were all very happy when he got back from his trip. Within ten minutes of his arrival, I grabbed his phone and flipped through the camera roll desperate to find this shot of my mountain. As I looked at it, I smiled and my shoulders loosened as I started to not just see it but experience it. And the reverse, I know my husband was just as eager to be home with us as I was to see my mountain and momentarily escape. He hugged our two-year-old. She coughed and vomited all over the front of his shirt. I put the phone down, sighed a goodbye to my mountain, and grabbed some paper towels.