I came back out to east coast thinking that I was leaving nature behind. I built associations between the left coast and self-nurturing, self-caretaking and something to do with ease. I moved back out right for the sake of difficulty, for that very human need to encounter challenges, triumphs, failures, changes. I came back to New York so that language could be hard at times and left Seattle so that aggression couldn’t be hidden in passive tongues and diversity wouldn’t just be for the pretty ones. I came out here to learn to meditate over sirens and assumed I had to reconcile with a bit of heartbreak. Figured I’d have to give up on trees and muddy ground and mountain lakes and overgrown trails and peace of mind easily found. Still, I’m back in Seattle a few times every few months, for work, or maybe to remember a part of myself, or to keep from idealizing a place or to touch base with something green and lush. On the right coast, I’m recognizing the manifestations of me in the place and remembering that I learned to hike on the AT, in the Kittatiny Mtns, the Berkshires. I was young and rode a bicycle to school. I’ve been realizing that the buildings obscure the mountains but don’t cause them to cease existing.