I could hike different trail.
I could explore the east coast, hike the divide, I could walk my own way along the Hayduke, hunker down as a storm rolls through the mountains of Colorado. I could bike the width of the country, road trip the deep south, but I know – I know for sure exactly where I will be wishing I was again.
So, I’ll get rid of everything I don’t need, I’ll pack my clothes into cardboard boxes, i'll repair my stained old gear, i'll train uphill, downhill, sidling mountains in the scorching sun, in the pouring rain (jk screw that) and running on hard pavement until my lungs burn. I’ll learn more about photography, buy a new camera, buy a little fluffy microphone, one that bobs along as I walk and I’ll learn how to use it - in the hope that I this time I can come a little closer to capturing what my version of home looks like. I’ll save and work and save and save some more. I’ll save everything I can - because the fire to experience it all again shouts the loudest and needs to be stoked. It burns so much brighter than the rest of the foolish my wants.
And I’ll love the trail again, I’ll savour every moment, contrast the glimpses of suffering from last time with lighter memories, good memories, soft memories that make my eyes wrinkle, memories that I can turn to in moments of doubt. I’m not going back to relive the same magic, because that magic now only lives in my mind, the trail will never be the same and I have made peace with this – but I’ll return knowing everything that I know now and to share in this and have the faith that I can do this and that others can do this too. And I won’t be so damn afraid this time. What is life for restless souls but an endless stream of possibilities? It just feels right to return to the place that turned my life inside out. What more of a reason do I need than that? And how will it chew me up and spit me out this time?