On the first page of East of Eden, Steinbeck writes "I always found in myself a dread of west and a love of east. Where I ever got such an idea I cannot say." I find in myself, the same feeling.
West is the end of the day. West is the copper mines. West is the Great Salt Lake.
East is the sun rising. East in the Wasatch mountains. East is looking at the mountain peaks out of the kitchen window. East is home.
On graduation day, there was this moment when I was ready to leave the post-graduation reception on the quad, but I wasn't ready to go home and let it all be over. So I got in my car and headed East. Up Little Cottonwood, all the way up to Albion Basin, where I spent an hour or so opening presents and writing in my journal.
On days when I need to get away, I head East. In the spring, Big Cottonwood canyon starts turning green. In the winter, Snowbird has the best vegetarian chili in the universe, and frozen waterfalls remind me of my father. In the fall, the cabin has autumn leaves to bury myself in and no internet or phone service to connect me. And in the summer, Albion Basin has wildflowers blooming. I can always bring a novel, a journal and a pen East.
Right now, my whole life is heading East. I'm stuck between where I'm leaving and where I'm going, so in the meantime, I go East. I take time to write and read and think (and aren't they all the same anyway?). And wait for August, for farther East, for where I'm going.