Sainte Victoire Blue

"It will be beautiful,” he said, “at the top.” For some reason I believed him and kept climbing. My nose ran, my lungs were exploding, my thighs were pulsing and my feet – my poor Van covered feet. At one point he said, “those berries are poisonous…” My first thought was “give me a handful.” I kept climbing. Pumping, breathing. I followed him step for step. I trusted him. I had no muscle memory of that. I loved him. I had no muscle memory of that. Yet, I knew that every thigh-burning, brown-clouded, peanut butter fueled step had led me here. Here. Summit. Beautiful. I must remember this -- the view from gratitude is pretty spectacular.