I have a photograph of myself, taken 14 years ago, sitting on a small, butt sized ledge, at the top of the Continental Divide. My hiking buddy took the picture from above, looking down at me (because there was no way he was sneaking down onto that squeaky ledge) and I am radiant. Sweaty & smiling, as on top of the world as one can get for about 2000 miles, I think. And below my dangling feet was a whole lot of empty space before more ledges, empty space & mountain.
Delicious. The air is thin & pure.
I love it up there.
Today feels like the top of those Colorado mountains.
All the logistical movement is taking place; last meeting with the breast surgeon, ultrasound of the affected breast, declining the (completely unneeded) class on the lymphatic system post surgery, & putting my name in the hat for a study on yoga & breast cancer survivors. (what the heck?!)
I may not look back on this chapter as a "favorite" snapshot in my life later, but the views are certainly unusual.
And I don't mind looking down.