When they call…those mountains. They call to me this time of year. They call to me always. They call me home. They say it’s time to feel alive again. It’s time to shut out the noise. It’s time to be where you’re most at peace. It’s time be grounded again, yet elevated. It’s time to live simple, and simply live. It’s time for reflection and time to breathe deep. It’s time to awake there and watch the sun rise and glance from peak to peak and warm the evergreen floors and the trail before me. They call…the mountains. They have been for a while now. And they pull on my heartstrings, the thoughts of trekking over miles of terrain, new and familiar, make me want to go, to walk away from everything and everyone, and just go. They’re the most profound love I have. They’re easier to love. Easier than people, easier than this man-made life. Nothing ever alters that feeling, and nothing else satiates that calling. Because they’re home. Every nuance, every sound, every stream, every tree, every trail, every peak. I feel and hear and see it all, and I know that’s exactly where I belong. I’m never lost here. I’m completely found.
The trails of the mountains that wind and twist over rock and stream are that of my own heart and soul. And they tell me it’s time to do more than just exist. So I go. I go when the mountains call. I go to find the core of me again, to ride my horse down those trails that beckon, and I go to be happy for this moment. This moment that is my life. The mountains always call…and I will always go. I will always go home…