I saw a hill in the distance and I wanted to climb it. I imagined the breathtaking views I would encounter, and the thrill of the experience of reaching something unknown. Secretly I was hoping that the journey itself would provide me with something to admire and to fill my heart with. Not much. Just little things. A mischievous ray of light in between the branches. A bold reflection in the water. The awe of being surrounded by the majestic mother nature.
It took me a while to find the path, but there it was, as it always is. No matter how far you go, someone has always been there first. I remembered the movie ‘Into the Wild‘ where a youngster hikes into the deepest Alaskan forest only to find an abandoned rusty bus in the middle of it. From Alaska my imagination took me to India where we explored the rainforest once, and took a worn path as so many before us. The memories from India made me smile in contrast to where I was now.
Sooner than I thought, there I was, admiring the views, gasping for breath in front of it all, enjoying the moment before leaving. Suddenly I missed a friend and I thought how nice it would have been to come here together. I remembered another hike we once did together, wondered what she was doing today, and decided to call her from home. Then the sun came out again and I lost track of time and thought.
On the way back I amused myself by tracing my own footsteps. This is where I thought of India. This is where I stayed a moment to admire the lofty pines arching above me. This is where the path diverged and I wondered which to take. It’s funny how everything always looks so different when you’re coming back.