The tree line grows smaller. The trail goes from roots, dirt and moss to large boulder rock. The mountain top balds are appearing in front of me. My feet march. My calves burn. My feet are tender. I feel at my best. When I mount the summit, I stop.
My phrase is heard and lived throughout this rebirth: “Hike the Good Hike”. It echoes as I write this. I watch the humming birds feed just outside the porch. I listen to the Avett Brothers sing of the ups and downs of life. My head rests on the pillow, head back, eyes closed. I’m taking it all in. I’ve been here before…..