I am a mountain girl

I am a mountain girl and proud to be one. Yes, I was born in Nebraska because there was no hospital in the little Kansas town my father was minister in, but I am a mountain girl. That is because at four or five we moved to Colorado. Pueblo to be exact. We did not live there long, and I don’t remember much except looking in the mirror at the end of the hallway where there was a full mirror and asking myself “Who are you?” I would stare into that mirror at my face and ask that question.

Now I think, “what an odd child”. Who does that? I am not sure. Maybe everyone tries to find out who they are at age four or five.
I also remember the side yard, lying on my back on the hill. It was the perfect angle to stare at the sky. It was full of dandelions which my mother was always digging out and never winning. Partially because I liked spreading the seeds. The way you could blow the seeds and they would hang in the air for what seemed like forever. But Pueblo was a city and I am a mountain girl.

By first grade, we moved to Rifle. This is where I became a mountain girl. I guess staring at Ma’am Peak and the mesa below your whole childhood makes you a mountain girl. I was lucky to have grown up with parents who let me wander all over the town or even hike in the woods when I got older. I went everywhere on a bike by myself. Daily I went to the local pool in the summer from 1:00 until dinner time. My siblings and I would ride our bikes there and swim, but I remember doing it alone too. It is probably because my older brother was faster and stronger and leave me in the dust or maybe, my sister and brother did not go as much as me. Still, I would ride my bike, park it in the bike slot with no lock and my daisy green and yellow bike with the banana seat would be there when I returned to ride home wet and warm.

I am a mountain girl because we would go to Ma’am Peak and hike all the way to the top. I did it with my dad a couple of times. When you got to the top, you could sign your name in the book that was kept in the tin can in a crevice. Since the peak was a dormant volcano, the rock was volcanic and porous.

I am a mountain girl because when I see mountains, I feel happy. Why is that? For me, it is because of references growing up. The image of staring at that mountain from our front yard on third street and from our back deck when we moved to eighth street. It is from the images of Moses and Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. If Moses and Jesus can talk to God from a mountain then I can.

Now, I get to see the Alaska range as I drive to school or back home from “town” (Fairbanks). My family always teases me because they think I’m crazy when I always say, “Don’t we live in a beautiful place? Just look at those mountains.”

Literally mountains are closer to heaven so possibly that is simply what it is. But I am a mountain girl.