Bch2mnts*

A friend of mine and I were conversing about what it's like to live at the beach versus what it's like to live in the mountains. My friend being from the Jersey shore and myself a native of Western North Carolina, we both shared our love for our respective hometowns as well as an appreciation for the other location. She couldn't understand what I did with my time during the summer if I didn't live near a beach and boardwalk then confessed that she had never really spent any time in the "mountains" and if anything she'd merely driven through or past them. Her professor, the head of the English department, had asked his class, "Are you a beach or a mountain person? And you can't be both." My eyes widened at the thought that I couldn't equally love both. Because I do. How is it that one person can choose between two of the most beautiful natural phenomenas?

She left me with my thoughts that day and I couldn't stop reveling in the idea of CHOOSING my ever-faithful mountains or the majestic sea I longed for each summer. Having grown up hiking and camping on the Blue Ridge Parkway I have always loved the mountains for what they provide visually: a vast view of the blended red, green, orange, and yellow leaves in the fall and their fluttering descent to the soft, cool blades between my toes; glowing white peaks against gray cotton clouds; the full, plush blossoms of spring and the honeysuckle smell of summer. Home to the most radiant of sunsets, the rim of the parkway yields an incomparable front row seat to the romantic, nostalgic descent. My earliest memories include picnics in the clouds with my parents at dusk, impossibly close to the sinking star. Aesthetically pleasing, the mountains also provide a sense of love and emotion in the peaks and valleys of what is home. Driving west from my piedmont-located university evokes a longing sensation and a heavy foot as I weave through the traffic of I-40. My lead foot grows heavier as the peaks make their first appearance somewhere between Hickory and Morganton. Not only will I greet my family and dog in fewer than two hours but I'll also be reunited in the embrace of my mountains. Surrounded by their towering arms I simply look up and feel emotionally, mentally, and physically calm. The only other time I'm overcome with such powerful passion is when the ocean greets my toes on the edge of the world.

The smell of the salty sea alone brings me to a corner of my mind untouched by any other physical location. To relax with a novel or favorite magazine in the rays of the brightest star, serenaded by the rushing tide is to erase any adverse mentality. Its vastness is a relentless force of power and mystery unknown to any person. Endless and expansive the sun against the sea or the sound is inimitable in its own way. Bleeding into the horizon the red-orange stretches across the edge of the world.  It is this time of the evening, twilight, that is my favorite few moments to spend by the ocean. I'll stretch out on my towel in an effort to read but instead find myself lost in thought, hypnotized by the distant swells. I am at peace in the war-like howls of the ocean. And I never want to leave.

Filled with conflicting emotion about summer - my desire to spend three months in the mountains as well as my countdown to family beach week - I cannot simply choose a favorite. My time is never done on the early morning of day seven as my mom and I traditionally, woefully saunter to the sand and wave goodbye to the roaring whitecaps at sea. But with the commencement of each semester at school I drag my feet in the direction that leads away from the mountains. I can't help but wonder: am I loyal to the mountains because they've been my home for 22 years? Or do I love the ocean because I only see it once  or twice a year?

Are you a beach or a mountain person?

*A family friend's license plate reads: Bch2mnts. Born and raised in WNC she moved to the coast of NC for a while, only to return after 10 years. I thought it a fitting title.