Home. I breathe deeply of the thin mountain air, savor, and exhale slowly. I am home on this mountain so beautiful and silent and serene. Such a lovely land. How many come here to forget their worries and get away from it all in summer?
But now winter remains, and it feels cold and dark and I’m somehow longing for mud, and flowing waters, and sun on the back of my neck.
The sun will rise. I will walk the land. I will step outside and smell the purity of air and stare up at the growing light on the sturdy mountain and see the brightness and beauty again.
Like seasons that blow the leaves from the trees and winds that cover the tracks, the problems of the past will not remain. Really, how shallow are my concerns? I will ascend above the skeletons in the dirt, and climb the magnificent mountains that beckon me.