Life is like a hike.
It can long and strenuous and difficult.
Or short, simple and sweet.
Maybe you looked up your route prior and planned it.
Maybe a friend told you to go down there.
Either way your footsteps took you where you wanted.
You may fall down, hit your *** and get right back up.
You may turn the wrong way and get lost.
And you may eventually find your way back to the path.
Or you find a path long forgotten, one many had passed on, but you know you can make it.
Sometimes there are 360 views the whole journey, and sometimes you get to the summit and it’s only fog, rain, and ugly clouds.
There are lots of people on the most popular trails.
Some rude leaving trash here and there.
And you can either change it or leave it be.
And on the rugged mysterious trails, you will not find many fellow hikers.
My hike is long, rough, and difficult.
I have gotten lost, found old paths, made my own, and returned to my roots.
There have been many visitors to my smile and laughter.
Few have been lucky enough to hear my story. But many have changed their course to a happier route alongside mine, somewhere in the distance they are there.
And I know that the summit is gorgeous. 360 views.
And when I fall on my ***, I get back up. Sometimes I may lay there and cry and scream but eventually the dirt becomes uncomfortable.
Eventually I must find a stream to wash in.
My hike is an overnight, backpacking trip. There are several summits. And several ups and downs. And if the way My life ends is on that hike, then at least I was smiling while out of breath and pushing on.