While living in Salt Lake City, I always looked to the west, away from the Wasatch Front that created a wall against the eastern portion of the country. To the west, the horizon glittered with sunlight on the briny Great Salt Lake. A vast field of crusted salt flats challenged all comers to cross, only to meet more desert where ghost towns of broken dreams dotted the land. The final horizon, the final barrier looming up to contain me, was the Sierra Nevada.
My attention, my dreams were of a more exciting life outside the theocracy that contained me. I yearned for the utopian greenscape of California. Eternal sunlight. No snow or ice. Energy, innovation, freedom to believe and become. At last, I packed my car and a U-Haul truck in which my Dad followed me across the Great Basin.
His resistance to my fleeing from his home must have hurt him deeply, but my sister convinced him to let me fly. I would always love him no matter how far away I lived. He and my sister, however, remained inside their small world at the foot of the Wasatch. They had already reached their horizons while I still searched for mine.
I met the waters of the Pacific Ocean and cast my lot among people who resented me as an invader of their Paradise. Somehow, with new friends to shelter my fears and teach me the ways, I prevailed. I found my soul mate, bore the child that would bring light with her, and whittled my dreams to proper proportions, honing the rough edges of my talents. It took a deep swallow and a jump off the cliff of trepidation, but at last I learned how to fly.
I love the concept of never ending horizons. so often we narrow our worlds, limiting our view of what is possible. there is always a journey ahead, we only need to take that first step. I will be contemplating this again and again. especially when I feel the walls closing in. thanks, Fran
Horizons
While living in Salt Lake City, I always looked to the west, away from the Wasatch Front that created a wall against the eastern portion of the country. To the west, the horizon glittered with sunlight on the briny Great Salt Lake. A vast field of crusted salt flats challenged all comers to cross, only to meet more desert where ghost towns of broken dreams dotted the land. The final horizon, the final barrier looming up to contain me, was the Sierra Nevada.
My attention, my dreams were of a more exciting life outside the theocracy that contained me. I yearned for the utopian greenscape of California. Eternal sunlight. No snow or ice. Energy, innovation, freedom to believe and become. At last, I packed my car and a U-Haul truck in which my Dad followed me across the Great Basin.
His resistance to my fleeing from his home must have hurt him deeply, but my sister convinced him to let me fly. I would always love him no matter how far away I lived. He and my sister, however, remained inside their small world at the foot of the Wasatch. They had already reached their horizons while I still searched for mine.
I met the waters of the Pacific Ocean and cast my lot among people who resented me as an invader of their Paradise. Somehow, with new friends to shelter my fears and teach me the ways, I prevailed. I found my soul mate, bore the child that would bring light with her, and whittled my dreams to proper proportions, honing the rough edges of my talents. It took a deep swallow and a jump off the cliff of trepidation, but at last I learned how to fly.
Beautifully written with your customary verve, Sue. Thank you.
Thank you, Fran. This was a good prompt.
I love the concept of never ending horizons. so often we narrow our worlds, limiting our view of what is possible. there is always a journey ahead, we only need to take that first step. I will be contemplating this again and again. especially when I feel the walls closing in. thanks, Fran