Page 29 - Oasis in the Sky

That Ain’t No Mountain

I grew up in the mountains of Southeast Arizona,
purple oases rising out of the desert—
sky islands, tall and pine covered,
sporting white snowcaps in winter.

I remember my first trip into the Colorado Rockies.
They were larger than my mountains—
steeper and higher, adorned in pine and aspen,
and snow...lots of snow.
I recall their grandeur and the vastness of their kingdom—
draped in deep sapphire and dark amethyst—
snowcapped peaks from horizon to horizon.

When I was older, I saw the Grand Tetons;
I was amazed at their size and majesty—
jutting into the sky like rugged earth giants.
If one could stand on their lofty peaks,
one could stand on the roof of the world.

Then life took me to flat West Texas,
where I heard people talk about mountains
but never actually saw one.
One Easter Sunday, excited about a sunrise service,
I was going to see a mountain in Texas.
When we arrived, all I saw was a hill,
if that’s what this bump on the earth’s surface could be called.
“That’s not a mountain,” I said disdainfully.
“Yes it is. It’s the highest mountain ’round here
for a hun’erd miles,” was the earnest reply.
Talk about misinformed, these poor clueless flatlanders.
My mountains were humpback whales,
this West Texan’s mountain was a minnow.
I don’t care what they say, but that ain’t no mountain!

I think about how life reflects the physical world,
how we draw analogies from one to the other.
What is a mountain to one, is an imperceptible hill to another.
It all depends upon where you grew up,
where you live, where you’ve been.

“Hey! Barkeep! Make mine a tall, cool mountain. Straight up!”

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Oasis in the Sky
Oasis in the Sky