“Are the brothers out?”

Every morning, walking to the bus stop on my way to school, I’d squint, hoping to catch a glimpse of “The Brothers” peeking through the gap in the trees. Something about seeing the snow capped twin peaks standing tall made me stand a little taller too and gave me just enough extra motivation to start the day feeling empowered. And even on days I couldn’t see them, I knew the Olympics, home to The Brothers, were always just an hour or so away, their reliability grounding me and providing a sense of comfort. I looked forward to the days I made it out there to explore, to wonder, to feel grateful to grow up so close to the water and to the mountains.

Looking for The Brothers was soon replaced by looking for “The Mountain” as I started at the University of Washington. My excitement to be living in a big city for the first time in my life was simultaneously met with change-induced nerves, but the continued daily search for surrounding peaks, now for our towering, majestic volcano Rainier, was a welcomed familiar routine that reminded me that I hadn’t moved far and taught me to look for beauty in all of my surroundings.

It helped, too, that I could still sometimes see The Brothers on my walk west through campus heading back home to the dorms.

These daily searches for the mountains have given me so much over the past fifteen years. They’ve shown me how a shared appreciation of beauty brings strangers together, folks sharing smiles and chats about our beloved mountain while walking down Rainier Vista. They’ve brought me closer to friends, giving an excuse to take photos and text a quick “hey, want to study together outside? the mountain is out!”. Each summer, they are a not-so-subtle reminder of how cruel climate change is when I wince looking out at the shrinking glaciers during a heatwave, hitting temperatures I never imagined this region reaching as a kid. And they are a small moment in my days to look away from my phone or any pressing thoughts, take in what’s around me, and reflect.

As I move out east for the first time in my memory, it’s unnerving to think I will no longer be tucked in near the Puget Sound, nestled between the Olympics and the Cascades. When I look out in the distance, I cannot expect to see The Brothers or Tahoma. But I know the mountains will be here, waiting for me each time I return to the Pacific Northwest, their teachings will stay with me, and I’m excited to find my new anchors.

Of course, actually spending time in the mountains has also had a tremendous impact on me. Someday I’ll put together a list of my favorite adventures and places I hope to visit.