“How do you want to be remembered?” she asked,
knowing full well I wanted children:
a chance to stay,
like mangrove roots above the water.
“Who would you like to remember you?”
“Who?” I asked.
The word hung like a prayer
I didn’t know how to send.
Looking at the ground,
I combed the pebbles
sewn by heat and tar.
I never considered this, only to do something great.
Something that meant my feet mattered.
An etching in a river of sand.
But for who?
Everyone I supposed.
I recently read an article about Finland’s extraordinary run as the happiest country on earth, in which the author cited one key catalyst for their success: low expectations. The author argued that because the days are short and the nights are long, Finns don’t concern themselves with overachieving. I suppose after centuries of just trying…
I’ve hiked a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I can’t even process how many miles. I walk for miles every day, even when I’m not going anywhere special, so I can’t guess how many I’ve hiked in my lifetime. Let’s just say it’s a plethora of miles. And in those miles, I’ve run into…
Something has been coming up in conversation a lot lately that I thought might be helpful to mention. Well, helpful if you’re a hiker or climber looking to take on rugged mountains or some other difficult terrain. Maybe this comes up around the water cooler at work, but more likely, it comes up on the…