falling in love.

There it is, that night deep and dark, no sleep to be found. Tired. Exhausted to the bone. Yet, sleep eludes my body like a shadow forever dancing just out of reach. Tucked away in a place of quiet, much needing to be done, yet the words would be written, the dance typed out, and so I dance with my fingers the words that would partner across the blank dance floor of the page before me.

Tonight I can hear the call. The warmth of the air, the haunting beauty of a silver coast, salt air upon my tongue. Tonight, it is strong and clear and all that I want.

Gazing out of the cold panes, the world beyond this window is anything but that. Snow gently falls, silent upon a cold ground that holds winter close, putting off warmth as long as possible. Yet, even in this there is beauty. Grays and creams swirl together with the stark white of freshly fallen snow and a sky in which the crisp air makes the stars more clear than anywhere else. These make up the dress that the land would not take off. For even in the absence of warmth, of colors that are richer, even with these cold colors that cover the land all around, the beauty is cool and aloof yet in a way, deeper than the happy yellows and pinks that have coated other places with the warmth of spring.

The call is clear tonight. If I could reach out, just there, the warmth of the sea, the calm and peace that make up my soul, it would be just there.

Yet....

.....The call is always here, always present. It is her sand that runs through my veins, her salt that covers my soul....yet....the beat of my heart is pulsing with a land much different from the shores on which I grew up. The deep of mountains ancient have, without my noticing, caused my heart to fall in love. The curves of this land, her frigid rivers, jagged canyons, the wild sweetness of the air she possesses...all of this...somehow...without my noticing, have tied my heart down and there is nothing to be done. For just as surely as falling in love, that moment when suddenly, your heart is no longer your own, this has happened two fold in this place. That moment that you least expected, coming with a flash and taking with it even faster that which you thought you'd have the choice to give, yet, finding that if you'd had the choice, you would have given it to the possessor anyway...yes, it's very much the same thing. For I have found that one does not just fall in love with someone, but it's possible to constantly fall in love with places. With things. With the deep beauty of mountains, with silver shorelines, with trees bending and swaying in a delicious autumn breeze, with humid springs bursting forth with brilliant pinks and yellows and blues, with the taste of food, the smell of a camp fire, starlight and knights and fairies and all the beautiful, wonderful things that make up a sweet, wild, incredible life. Yes. We can go about falling in love with them every day.

No, all these little falling in loves are not the same as that one that hits you. They do not hold the same power, for falling in love with a person and knowing that it may never be returned, this holds a weight which falling in love with small things never will. Yet, it still happens. For the places we live hold a beauty and love all their own. We have the choice to fight it or to find the beauty in every moment, in the small things that are worth loving, that are worth writing about, that are worth living to the fullest.

And so, I find that though my soul will forever belong to the silver coast on which I grew up, my heart has fallen deeply in love with aspen covered mountains and all that they possess. For in this place, in the trees and rivers and streams, in the gently falling snow and beautiful golden summers, I have truly found my God, I have truly gazed upon His face, and I have seen that He is enough.