She said the Guatemalan women had a trick for situations just like this. A variation on a familiar tune of slow and steady wins the race: Just take small-calculated steps, don’t exert too much force, and when you finally reach the end it’s like the journey was a godsend –
but I rise helium heavy, each step an angular insult to my weight. This modern pilgrimage of bottled water and Doritos, clothes marred by tide and decay. Otis, I pray that you’ll hold me once again I’m not made of hearty peasant stock My hills are made of concrete and I order Seamless ‘round the clock.