Just as predicted, the rains pulled away their loathsome curtain to reveal a stunning morning. We had misty mountain moodiness settling in little cracks in the hillside. We discovered new California vegetation and scuttled along, our legs waking up alongside our brains.
We began chanting “cheeseburger” and started running down out of the treacherous foothills of these rather inhospitable mountains.
“Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger!” was our battle cry.
We stopped running and walked the fastest we’ve ever walked. We had 16 miles and a deadline: no more cheeseburgers at four pm.
We talked about the World Wars and felt grateful for shoes and not having to fight for our lives after a hundred mile march.
“Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger!”
We came out of the mountains and charged right into the plains. “What is this place, even?” We wondered as we saw cows mating.
“Home, home on the range — Cheeseburger!”
But then the low came, as life is a rollercoaster. We didn’t eat enough and snipping happened (it was my fault, let’s be real). Avry banished me up the trail and I walked away without apologizing (like a total noob).
I walked and felt raw and new, like something strange had emerged from me and the closeness of the town and number of day hikers and lack of Avry all became too much. I was happy and sad and a million more nuanced feelings all at once.
I said hi to some more cows and sat down, red eyed, and waited to walk into town with Avry.
It was all okay and the cheeseburgers were unreal. I got goosebumps eating my turkey burger and drinking coffee with non dairy creamer.
The rain feels so far away.
