I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina. I was a fortunate kid; not because my parents had a lot of money but because the town I grew up in had everything a kid needed. I lived in a valley surrounded by mountains. I had quiet streets to ride my bike, woods to explore, and lots of friends. We enjoyed the town pool, riding bikes and chasing fire flies in summer evenings. When it snowed we had the best hills and trails to sled on, we built snow forts and ate snow creme. Yea...it sounds perfect, and it was perfect for a kid. But then I grew up.
When I was about 14 my brother Tim (who was older) invited me on a hike; I'd never done much hiking. He said we were going to the top of High Windy and it had a great view.
We got to the trail head and there was a sign. Warning: Extreme Conditions Proceed at Own Risk
It was a narrow trail with steady inclines. Occasionally, the trail would level and you could see a glimpse through the trees of my home town. The trail got steeper and eventually met the face of a bank filled with exposed rock faces, gravel and pine trees that seemed to hang on for dear life by their roots.
It was a rewarding climb. Each strenuous stretch of trail was followed by small views of my childhood. And then we reached the top; and yes, it had a great view. I could see my school, my church, the grocery store, the camps that I had spent my summers in, and the large stretch of woods surrounds my home. I could see the vast fields and huge pines that I had spent days exploring, the fields I had camped in, the creeks that I had fished, swam and played in. I could see miles of railroad tracks stretching from the tunnel at the edge of the valley to the hazy distance where it disappeared. And there was the interstate with 18 wheelers, trucks and cars flowing like a slow stream by what I thought was as big as the universe but now realized was my small comfortable existence.
It was at that moment that I witnessed life happening without me. It was beautiful, it was peaceful and wanted to see more.
When I was about 14 my brother Tim (who was older) invited me on a hike; I'd never done much hiking. He said we were going to the top of High Windy and it had a great view.
We got to the trail head and there was a sign. Warning: Extreme Conditions Proceed at Own Risk
It was a narrow trail with steady inclines. Occasionally, the trail would level and you could see a glimpse through the trees of my home town. The trail got steeper and eventually met the face of a bank filled with exposed rock faces, gravel and pine trees that seemed to hang on for dear life by their roots.
It was a rewarding climb. Each strenuous stretch of trail was followed by small views of my childhood. And then we reached the top; and yes, it had a great view. I could see my school, my church, the grocery store, the camps that I had spent my summers in, and the large stretch of woods surrounds my home. I could see the vast fields and huge pines that I had spent days exploring, the fields I had camped in, the creeks that I had fished, swam and played in. I could see miles of railroad tracks stretching from the tunnel at the edge of the valley to the hazy distance where it disappeared. And there was the interstate with 18 wheelers, trucks and cars flowing like a slow stream by what I thought was as big as the universe but now realized was my small comfortable existence.
It was at that moment that I witnessed life happening without me. It was beautiful, it was peaceful and wanted to see more.
