I walked out into the stormy night and hugged my friend goodbye.
We’d spent nearly 2 hours elbow deep in wedding talk and hot caffeine, a regular occurrence within the lifespan of our yearlong friendship.
18 days. In only 18 more days, I’ll be standing in a row of black lace and charcoal Vera Wang watching her begin a new chapter with her best friend.
I couldn’t be happier for this kindred spirit.
Out of the corner of her eye she said she saw a flash of light fill the sky, and she hoped it was God-made rather than man.
She loved lightning.
I sat in the dark defrosting my car for a few moments before heading home, and wrapped my paper thin army green bomber jacket around me. The same one I used to wear in the little beach towns 5 years ago. The same one I often threw on over a tshirt as the breeze kicked in on a summer night in the bay area when I’d walk with my friends into the heathery hills while the moon rose.
I smiled to myself in the dark.
Some things are hard to let go of, even when it’s 30 degrees outside with a chance of snow.
I pulled my favorite beanie over my ears and backed out of the parking lot.
10 minutes later, another flash lit the sky, illuminating Ebey mountain several miles in the distance. This time I saw it, like a beacon lighting up my home that nestled at the roots.
I’d have to text the bride-to-be and tell her that fleeting flash was definitely God-made.
Since moving here, I’ve fallen in love with the strangeness of driving out of the city, through a stretch of farmland, then into the foothills to come home. Most of these foothills are dusted with snow now, and I keep standing on tip-toe hoping to get a taste of it. As I drove they all looked like dark sleeping giants against the cloudy sky, and I thought of the lore surrounding this beautiful wild land.
One of my favorite drives just happens to be a few miles east of my house to a breathtaking snowy mountain called White Horse. The Native American legends say it was once a woman who came from the east named So-bahli-ahli. She settled and fell in love with a lonely man named Queest-Alb (Three Fingers Mountain), and they lived a beautiful and happy life together.
For a time.
A beautiful young Indian princess named Ska-dul-gwas (Mt. Higgins) came up the Stillaguamish River from Puget Sound, and she was jealous of So-bahli-ahli’s happiness. She set out to lure Queest-Alb away from her with her flattery, her smile, and her beautiful clothing. Queest-Alb’s eyes drifted from his true love, and he moved to be with Ska-dul-gwas.
That’s when a battle broke out between the women. They say it was a terrific battle, full of noise, blood, hair, ripped clothing, flesh, screams and rock slides.
What happened after that is disputed to this day.
So-bahli-ahli left deep gouges in the face of Ska-dul-gwas that can be seen when making that drive that I love so much.
Some say though disfigured, Ska-dul-gwas still stands the victor – while her lover stands watch.
I prefer to believe the other side of the story, the one where So-bahli-ahli’s ferocity in love and battle gave her the victory. She fought for the happiness and love her heart knew, even when her lover was weak.
She fought for her best friend.
A gust struck my car as the lightning flashed once more, and for a brief moment I thought I glimpsed those slumbering legends in the distance.
In a few more minutes, I pulled into the gravel lot on our acreage and watched a copse of trees battle the wind against the angry sky.
I walked out into the stormy night.
Sources:
http://www.accessgenealogy.com/native/legend-of-two-mountains.htm
http://www.rhinoclimbs.com/USGSMountHiggins.htm
http://www.peakware.com/peaks.html?pk=335
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