It’s the morning in the mountains,

And I am crying.

I was caught actually crying looking at a view of little ski slopes carved shakily into pine covered mounds nestled into the clouds. What brought me here was sheer determination. What broke me? That remains unspoken.

As time passes I find it harder and harder to talk about the things I don’t want to face, because if they live quietly in my heart then I can continue on light and free. This is not me bottling things up. This is not me being afraid.

This is me being tired from working hard.

All day I work hard to keep afloat, to hike up and down rocks because I’m going to see a wooden sign that’s 1000 miles away.

And when the day ends I want to sleep, and I sleep heavier and heartier than I’ve ever slept in my life. It’s truly a joy to sleep.

The mornings come and they are quiet, so quiet that nothing else could be quieter, and all the things in my heart begin to rattle.

When I looked off into the distance this morning I was thinking about where you are, when you actually finished the trail and left this life behind, where you moved to now…it all seems so far away.

I wondered about how far away the things I am reaching for actually are. My depth perception fails with time.

I harbor an armada of moments, quietly floating in my heart, some of them lifetimes away, and still the mountains roll on ceaselessly into the distance.