The rhythmic crunch of ice beneath my hiking boots is an invitation back into the present. A gentle breeze releases snow trapped in the fingertips of the pines; snowflakes glide through the air and brush against my cheeks. I feel as though the universe is flirting with me, and it’s working.
Infatuation for worldly things slips away as I stand still before her glistening mountain ranges and ever-changing skies. She asks nothing of me, yet gives me everything. I am one of her many children, alongside my furry and feathered brethren, whom she watches over diligently.
I see my brothers’ and sisters’ tiny tracks intersect the man-made trail that I am confined to, disappearing into faded brush and piles of lichen-strewn rocks. I crouch down and peek inside their homes, imagining their cuddly communion in warm pillowy beds as dusk approaches. The caw of Crow breaks me from my trance. I nod in grateful acknowledgment and my heart swells as I continue on the path home, anything but alone.
A creek sings beneath a snowpack, bidding me farewell through bubbly continents of rippling light. Its mysterious song pierces my skin and enters my bloodstream. I am reminded that I, too, am alive.
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