Being Small Under My Mountain: 1

Sunset.
As a child, I looked out the bedroom window across flat ground, 'til my eyes stopped at the mountains in the distance. There were five mountains all in line. At least, that's what I would like to think. And not a one of them belonged to me.
The orange-The pink-The purple-The yellow-The occasional green: Comprised my Five-Mountain-Arizona sunset.
Not only the sunsets, but also the crosses. On one of those five mountains, there stood three crosses. Wrapped around each cross were plain white Christmas lights that shone from far away in the Arizona darkness. It got very dark at night. When I would wake suddenly in the night, panicking in the utter darkness--darkness you can feel--I would look out at those crosses. It was the only thing I could see for miles.
It was beyond what 'beauty' can describe. Seeing those three crosses in front of that sunset was magnifiscent.
I was small. Looking at those mountains I was small. Standing on those mountains I was even smaller. And I loved it.
The sky. That vast expanse of bright blue, the kind of bright blue you only see in Arizona. In the morning, it was blue mixed with yellow. At noontide, it was at it brightest, purest blue. By sunset, those colors filled the sky again: orange, pink, purple, yellow, and green. By nightful, it was black, and only the purest of blacks.
The storms. The lightning. The thunder. Like no other. These storms convinced me that gods and spirits were real. The light was love and truth. The thunder was justice and rage. The lightning could illuminate the whole black Arizona sky. The thunder could rise a million dead ones from their graves. It was a beautiful fear that I had, sitting in my bedroom looking out that window. Feeling Black. Seeing Three crosses. Then holy light. Then hearing BOOM! CRASH! THUNDER!
I think I heard crickets every Arizona slumber I had. I never saw the crickets, not even in the daylight. I was too young to know that that sound was the crickets looking for love. I was too young to know that I, too, one day, would make that same sound, sing that same song, looking for love.