the mountains at 7 pm

I sat in the passenger's seat as we headed out of the fairgrounds for the last time, on the way to the airport. The boy at the gate said "will she be needing a stamp" and my dad replied "no she isn't coming back" and I moved my head from side to side a little bit and then turned to look out the window, bit my lip (although that never really works when you want it to) and focused on taking in deep breaths of the pure air because I knew I wouldn't be breathing it for some time.
And we drove towards Anchorage and the airport and it was a rare clear day and the mountains have never been so beautiful, with the first snow capping the tallest one. My dad was going on about how that meant autumn was here, but really winter because it's already getting cold and the leaves are turning but I wasn't really listening because I was trying my hardest to not cry. I mentally kicked myself for being such a sap because I'll be coming back won't I? Maybe in the winter. But I think it was the fact that I was losing that cohesive moment of family & comfort & security and going back to the city where I'm alone and strong but fragile at the same time, do you know that feeling. I hated that I was losing my grip on that moment, and I hated time for moving on when I didn't want it to.


But here I am, ready to get back in the swing of things, although I'm really not. On my way to the salon to do something with this mess that is my hair. And then packing. And then moving in tomorrow.

I think I've changed a little this summer. I'm a little more merciless, but a little more loving at the same time. Not both at once, of course, but...you'll see, I suppose.