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I went home this weekend, to to be with my family and to see friends. I needed a mini-break, as they say in England. A small vay-cay. Some R&R.
I traveled home to remember what wide-open spaces look like when you’re driving on a lonely highway and you can see that point way out in the distance where the earth meets the sky.
And to remember what the cool, clear, fresh air smells like, almost minty and piny and cold in your lungs, but then warm. Spring in Wyoming means five different weather patterns in four hours—pouring rain, gale-force winds, blizzard snow (it didn’t stick, but it came down with a fury), beaming sun, and sad grumpy drear.
It felt good to be there, surrounded by things I know, people I love, small moments here and there that reminded me where I came from and why I am who I am.
I am eternally grateful, and immensely blessed.
But on my way back, I caught myself saying I was going home. “Oh, it will be good to be back home,” I said. But hadn’t I just come from home? Is Massachusetts now my home (say it ain’t so!)? Can I have two homes? Or three? Or four? Not actual buildings, but spaces—or feelings of all-is-ok-ness, one-ness, whole-ness. Is that what I meant by “going home”?
What is home? Where is it? Or who?
Before leaving for college, my parents told me no matter where I roamed, Wyoming would always be my home—Wyoming, my native land of the vast sky and big prairie. Snow in all seasons and drive-up liquor stores. Fly-fishermen and eagles on fence-posts. Mountains, streams, and antelope. I left Wyoming to see something new, to go someplace with “less dirt”. To widen my mind and my purview.
When I got to Mount Holyoke, home was where my bed was—
every year in a different place on campus, each room a special place for me and my thoughts, my books, my music. I felt good there, like I belonged. Like I was intrinsically connected to the place and the people there with me, those who came before me, and those who would come after me. Each year was new and different.
But every late August, when I stepped back on campus, I felt like I was right where I needed to be. Soon I’d see my friends and we’d fall right back where we left off the previous year. It was a place of shared experiences, of self-seeking, of togetherness.
Then during the summer I went back to “home-home” as I called it. Back again to Wyoming, to my family, my room, my bed, my dogs.
My first job out of college was really when I first set up my own space that was really and truly mine, my new apartment. My walls, my kitchen, my art space.
And now Mark and I have a home here, in Watertown,
with our dog, our bed, our pictures.
I’m at home with Mark, in his hug. With his laugh and warm smile.
We feel good here, all together, “at home” in our 1200 square feet of room, and beyond that space the life we’ve shaped with one another.
All of this, and yet still I’m not certain. What IS home?
Is it a warm blanket? a friendly hug? where your family lives? where everyone knows your name? Could be… Surely it isn’t only the things around you, in your life, or the space they fill. Is it the people? Or is it just where you are, in that moment? And there, could it be many places?
Perhaps the answer is that home is where you are, where I am, where we are together, and that home will be ever-changing, ever-moving, because life is ever-changing, ever-moving. And in that movement will always be a constant space where we feel good, we feel like our true selves, we feel like we’re whole. And all those spaces will always be there, waiting for us.
I feel good knowing this. I feel calm. I feel at ease.
Today was the time-honored tradition of Mount Holyoke Mountain Day! Started in 1838, Mountain Day celebrates the mountain, the fall, good friends, and time off from classes, homework, books, and studying. The bells toll at seven o’clock in the morning for five straight minutes, calling the students from their beds and to the top of the mountain. Some drive, some hike, but it is being at the top that counts, meeting friends, eating ice cream, and taking pictures.
The Summit House, Mount Holyoke
While I, sadly, could not spend the day partaking in any traditional Mountain Day festivities, I did take time to remember some of my favorite Mount Holyoke outdoor moments. My favorite two come from then and now…
Winter, 2003: Snow hiking and sliding with Michelle and Jessica
Michelle and Jess at the top
My friends Michelle Boudreau Mattingly and Jessica Ketchen and I decided, as trip leaders of outing clubs often do, to lead a hike. It was the middle of winter, but we thought hey–winter hiking is fun! We advertised the hike up the Notch on our website and sent an email to the Mount Holyoke Outing Club listserv, and yet we were the only crazies to show up.
In the cold and snow we hiked up the Notch, a hike up one of the Seven Sisters on the way to Mount Holyoke, to see… well, nothing. Visibility was low, the snow was falling, and it was COOOOOLD. But fun, and beautiful. It was just the three of us on this trip; everyone else was curled up warmly with their comforters in their rooms watching a movie, studying in the library, or hanging out in Blanchard. But not us. No, that Saturday we hiked the mountain. And then we slid down:
And then, we drove to Harrells for ice cream.
August 2009, Hiking the Metacomet-Monadnock trail to the summit of Mount Holyoke with Mark & Gordon:
One Saturday this past August, Mark and I decided that we’d drive out to the Pioneer Valley and hike Mount Holyoke. I’d promised him long ago that I’d take him there, but this was the first time we’d been together. We took Gordon with us, because he too likes to hike. And what a good hiker he was! This trail is steep in many places and easy in others, and has beautiful views of the Oxbow, North Hampton, and the Pioneer Valley to the west.
The Oxbow, from vista on the Metacomet-Monadnock Trail
The day we chose to hike might have been one of the hottest and muggiest of the year. It was quite warm and buggy and pretty disgusting but we had lots of extra water and snacks, and hopes of cool drinks and sandwiches after reaching the summit, so we hiked on. We hiked past the Mount Holyoke Outing Club cabin, up a steep knoll and along the ridge towards the Summit House. One of my favorite moments from this hike was about 2/3 the way through. We had just passed one of the vistas looking out to the Oxbow and were continuing to move along the ridge and down one of the low points. We reached a big pile of rocks from which we’d climb down into a little ravine that we would walk in for a while before going up the long push to the top. Gordon approached the rocks carefully… he looked down, tried one path down and didn’t like it. He tried another and didn’t like that one either. Then he stopped and sat. We urged him “Come on Gordon! You can do it!” as he’d climbed up and down other piles of rocks and steep sections like a champ. But not this pile. Nope. Too steep, and he was no dummy. So Mark climbed down about half way, picked him up and carried him down. I’m not too sure Gordon enjoyed being carried, but Mark put him down and we all continued on our way up the trail to the summit.
Once on top we took the traditional photograph in front of the Summit Sign:
and then drove to Mount Holyoke (the College) where we bought ourselves those cold drinks and sandwiches we’d hiked for and sat on Adirondack chairs on quiet Blanchard Green to rest our toes and weary minds.
Today there was no hiking for me, but I read tweets all day from @mtholyoke about all the fun times that students were having going on hikes, hanging out at the summit, and eating ice cream with President Creighton.
I cannot say that I hiked any mountains, or even enjoyed the wilds of nature. But I did conquer something…
A mountain of BerryLine froyo. Yes indeed.
Perhaps next year I’ll hike a mountain instead?
How did you spend your Mountain Day?
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