My Mountains Mean I'm Home

This past weekend I went home for Megan's wedding and Easter. Being at a Catholic university is great because Easter is a really, really big deal. At Georgetown we don't have school Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Monday! It is quite excellent. Meg's wedding was Friday and I flew home Wednesday afternoon. I always love flying into Salt Lake and when I see the mountains I start to get really antsy to get off the plane. On Wednesday I was lucky enough to get a window seat. I usually aim for the aisle because I don't like being boxed in and I feel like it's less claustrophobic in an aisle seat since there's a little more space on one side. But I have to admit that one of my favorite things about flying home is seeing the mountains from the plane. They are beautiful and comforting. When I flew home on Wednesday, I started to weep at the sight of the mountains. It may sound cheesy or ridiculous, but they always bring a wave of peace with them because the mountains mean I'm home.