All that's left

The 1,600 mile journey is over. The boxes are unpacked and neatly stowed away. The closet is full of my clothing, arranged by color and style. The cupboards are stocked.

All that is left to do is write.

I could write about my first glimpse of the mountains; they sprung out of the Coloradan earth suddenly and with no warning. As we wound deeper into the Rockies, the sight of distant peaks, blue and blurry against an even bluer sky and topped by halos of fluffy, white cloud, my heart filled with anticipation and excitement. When most people look at mountains, they simply see gargantuan rocks jutting out of the earth, covered in scrubby little trees and bushes. I see love and wonder and home.

I could write about finally seeing the faces I longed to lay eyes on all summer long. Suddenly, the last four months were a blur and everything was just as it used to be. Except for the fact that nothing was the same. This realization was oddly comforting. So much has changed--class schedules, living arrangements, roommates--but the things that really matter --the spirit evident at BYU, the friendships, the memories--remain untouched. They didn't die over the summer; they just remained dormant, waiting patiently for us to reunite.

I could write about the things I want to improve on over the upcoming school year. Nearly every conversation I have inspires me to say "That's one of my goals for the year!" I have many. Some lofty, some simple. Some I made because I know I can accomplish them, some I made because I know I can't. But they're all there, swirling around in my head and heart because for some reason I can't bring myself to immobilize them on paper.

I could write about these things. But for now, I'm going to sleep.