Hiking with another person changes my brain chemistry. It is bizarre. I can’t explain it. But it is lovely.
Felix Felicis hiked with me again, starting at the delectably late hour of 9am until the beautifully twilight 9.30pm. We took three luxurious hour long breaks, each time chatting our heads off.
During our hike we were mostly silent, with me reveling in the joy of following behind someone, of the safety of not being alone. My mind, it seems, does not go to those ugly places with someone else there.
Instead I wondered at the bursts of white fireworks of the spent dandelions, the play of golden light dancing in the long grass, the matchstick dead trees outlined against the setting sun.
The sun lowered itself red and burning into the distance and orange and blue and pink and purple all blurred together — making the separation between them all impossible to comprehend — creating a new color in their union. We looked toward the thin, long clouds that gave further definition to the magic show and I felt happy, silently sharing the splendor with another person. Silently loving the trail side by side.
Today felt like my adoration was renewed, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Today I remembered what I love about this place, this journey. Today I found the time to revel in the minutia, the stuff I am out here to explore. Today I found love again.
