Freshly fallen snow blurs the path on the winding, mountainous trail I've chosen for my afternoon hike. I carefully plan my steps and do my best to keep to the trail of footprints of those who came before me.
I’ve let my furry hiking companion off her leash and I watch her cheerfully dash about a few yards ahead, a striking black bundle against a vast field of crisp white. She chases squirrels and curiously smells the air in-between mouthfuls of snow, glancing back at me from time-to-time to make sure I’m still following along.
As I climb upward, the burn in my legs from the steep hike and the syncopation of sound made by my footsteps in the crunchy snow begins to clear the whiskey-tinged fog of expectations, obligations, victories and disappointments that have accumulated and clouded my vision over the previous week.
Each step,
each inhale,
each exhale,
takes me closer to acceptance.
Solo hiking always makes me philosophical. I remind myself that life is an ebb and flow and that sometimes circumstances shift in unexpected ways for unexplainable reasons and you can't beat yourself up about them. Seemingly insignificant events from yesterday may seem monumental years from now, while very large disappointments may not even warrant remembering years down the road.
As I approach the top of the hill, I catch up to my furry friend who has stopped to smell something interesting. She wags her tail enthusiastically when she sees me and covers my hands in sweet dog kisses. I catch my breath, look back from where I’ve come, and sit down for a minute before together the two of us begin our steady trek back down to the car. Back down to the world that is waiting for me to begin afresh tomorrow.
