Dear Mountains and Rivers,

 

This morning, when I woke up, there were mountains and rivers with me. I forgot the fact that you were with me since I came here.  When I was an infant, when I was a toddler, when I was a schoolgirl, you were always there.  I always thought being with mountains and rivers was what the world was supposed to be. I was tiny, you were huge.  You were too huge for me. Maybe I was too tiny for you. But you were always there. Being on a riverbank and counting footsteps was a day-to-day thing. But your existence was too big for me, I used to think I was the footsteps.  Sad but the reality....I identify always with the edge...

These days, when I look back, I carry everything with me even if I still feel I am somewhere in the edge. Maybe the words that are inside my diaries are the gifts that came with me. Maybe the concept of movement and sadness of being stagnant you gave me in a lineage. Maybe I am the mountain. Maybe I am the one who is still counting the river stones.... Maybe someday when I move out ..... I will come back only for you. Dear mountains and river, your existence made me tiny; I accepted you as my safeguards. Maybe you were my big brothers who looked after me when I was unsafe.

This morning again, I thought about you because I looked back at you. I hope I will always want to look back and cherish you.