I lived there most of my life. These peaks were framed in my back door at home. My mother and I used to lay on lawn chairs, snuggled down in sleeping bags, on those glorious clear nights, watching stars fall. My neighbor was an astronomer with a 10″ telescope in his back yard. In 1986, we neighborhood kids used to troop over to his place to go gawk at Halley’s Comet. My love of science was born there. Those peaks were the center of my universe for over 20 years.
They still are.
Times like this, I’m reminded I’m a stranger in a strange land. Seattle and I, we love each other, but we don’t have history. I ooo and aaah at the beauty up here. Love having the ocean so close, love the Cascades and Rainier and all that, but it’s not my roots. It’s not the seat of my soul. Flagstaff is. I spent the best years of my life there. Most of the best friends I’ve ever had, that’s where they hail from. I found my place and my purpose right there in the shadow of those peaks, under those spectacular skies, where the universe seems to go on forever. That’s powerful stuff.
You don’t have to be holy to feel that sort of awe and wonder. Just human. And I’m damned grateful that folks like Dan & Cindi Duriscoe and Michael Smith-Sardior have captured the immensity of it.
Almost makes me feel I’m home.