A jagged edge, barb wired lined, potholed filled road with a collapsed bridge and a dead redwood laid sprawled across the fork. That was my straight and narrow path, that was my 17-year hiatus. So, I ditched the car on 4 flats and started walking. Besides, I got there by my own doing. Each wrong turn, off beaten trail I chose led me to that dead end no turn around place. I damn sure wasn't going back so onward and upward I went.
I stumbled, I crawled, I got battered and bruised and when I made it to that bridge I hesitated, Lord did I hesitate. There in front of me lied the difference between me and so many others. I'd much rather crawl down that embankment, shuffle through those rugged rocks, sit in that sandy mud and feel the ice-cold crystal-clear water cascade over my toes, then to build up that bridge and take a chance that others could follow me. Nope not me, not after everyone bailed on me while that car was still rolling.
I threw my shoes and socks to the other side of the ravine, let my feet sink into the sludge, and drug myself up the muddy side of the ridge. Once I stood back on solid, yet gaping, hole filled ground, I sprinted. It was a race between my pounding heart and how fast my legs could move. I ignored every piercing pain, every thorn penetrating my flesh, I just ran. I got to the tree and if it wasn't for the adrenaline, I would have surely paused to marvel at its colossal beauty, but instead I climbed. I could feel the bark crumbling beneath my hands, the branches snapping under my feet. I pulled myself up, clenching the last branch for balance, I threw my wet, cold, skin scraped body over its monstrous trunk, I made it.
I laid there panting for what seemed to be an eternity. I didn't move. I laid there with my eyes closed, taking in every sense I had. The subtle breeze on my damp skin raised the hairs on my arms, but I didn't mind. I could hear the rush of the water churning about in the near distance, the bird's song harmoniously echoing in the trees, a woodpecker etching out his favorite design in a hollowed out old limb. I breathed deep inhaling all that God had created. Honeysuckle, such a sweet, calming smell, the wind encased me with it. With palms pressed on the massive beast I rest on, I pushed myself to a sitting position, and dreadingly forced my eyes open to look back at what I had just came from.
In that moment I wept. Not for what I had trudged though, or the danger and pain I had inflicted upon myself, but for all the beauty and splendor I deprived myself of getting here. Every sunray I should have stopped to bask in, every wildflower I trampled down, every bug I smacked away. Life was still breathing, beating, pulsating on the outside, and in my selfish determination I missed it all.
