Trust Your Guts

Some of the best moments in life are the ones you can’t tell anyone about, but can still be used as a reference point for the next lesson. And those best moments are often the worst.

There are profound moments that I can’t even speak of. Ones of closeness, ones I can’t describe, as if telling would make it no longer true. And then the pain, well, that is hard to talk about too because when you do, nobody really pays attention. And still, even if they did, what could be done?

When I hiked for hours through boulder fields and weeds that were sharp like razors, because I was determined to climb the rocky mountain that I could see from the road, I didn’t feel the cuts or the twisted ankles until a few days later.

For months I had driven by, in and out of the mountain range where I lived that Summer and finally, in September, I climbed it.

There was a cross on it.

I can’t use too much as a reference point, because there are many years that are a blur.

Heaviness and melancholy sets in, gets in the way of everything.

It’s that same sort of weight that hits when raising your children, and when you are basically raising them alone.

All I can depend on is Google, my mother’s wisdom, the air that is breathing all around and trusting my guts.