Today I donned booties and grabbed a few sweaters. Today's goal: 'West Rock National Park'. It looks like Australia's red rocks to me and looms over the city of New Haven. It's stunning and you can see for miles and miles around, even to the distant ocean if you can believe it.
It's been awhile since I've been able to see so far ahead. It's been so long since I could see the 'whole' of something with few missing parts. All around, each beautiful tree screaming color louder than the rest.
I now have a fear of nature, of grass and even those beautiful yellow maples and the hills and valleys. I was the little child of San Francisco, begging her daddy to take her to Point Reyes, the park or another outdoor destination. I was the child who wildly ran with her friend down the dirt path, down a mountain, screaming. I was the girl lying in the grass, hiking all over East Sooke, playing all over the mossy rocks, following the same paths deer took, picking wild blackberries and running through high grass.
I was that girl. She loved nature.
She was clueless.
That same girl now sits in the car at stunning national parks and tells everyone in the car not to get out and explore. She's the girl who rolls down the window to take a picture, not the same one who would like to get down on her belly on the path to shoot up at the trees, the sun falling in.
I don't know where that girl went. Somewhere between the cold winter where she first got sick, to when she couldn't walk, to when she found out what made her sick, she lost her first love. It'll be hard to find a replacement for the beauty of the world around her.