Cathedral Lake 5/26/2013

I remember running feet and brisk mountain air, the smell of damp moss heady and sweet as the glint of clear, emerald streams flicker at the corners of my eyes. I remember those rising steps with rising breath as I climb the last few stretches of grey rock to stand tall above the breach...and see. See magnificence. See a heartbreaking beauty that sparkles with a deep, roaring blue as snow-drenched hills stand proud in the distance. Rich green trees dot the shore as far as the eye can glimpse and beyond that the promise of soaring peaks call to me, welcome me, dare me. This is adventure I see, this is beauty I find and my breath is stolen to dance with pure delight upon the shimmering waters before me.

Where are the words that once teemed so fierce, to strive and break against my lips? Where are the words that thrumming burst from inked fingers to thrive, gleefully, desperately, purposely upon white parchment?

I think they have been subdued into silence, chained by reality and a forlorn weariness. It's a meager fire that once remembers thoughts of golden glory. Can we be two at once, you and I both mentor and student, both learning and leading, both past and future. 

Where is the present? I am tired. But not beaten. I remember whispers, and I remember you. 

He pulled up quickly through the scattered rain, wheels crunching over faded white parking lines. Without turning off his engine he quickly ducked out of the car, shoulders hunched against the biting cold. There, standing oblivious, or perhaps uncaring in the harsh headlights that still flared from the running car an old man stood, back bowed beneath his dirty windbreaker. Worn flannel met a pair of weathered jeans and when the man running through the rain called his attention the old man turned, mouth agape in the beginnings of a surprised smile.

Flustered, the running man from the running car waved a handful of dollars in the air and held it out. "Here...I found some money for you."

His voice trailed off as the weathered old man almost unconsciously took the money, surprise in his eyes. The running man stammered "God bless...good luck.." and with an uncertain smile, quickly turned around to get back in his car and pull out of the faded parking spot.

As he backed out, he surreptitiously glanced in front at the old man who stood there, still staring forward uncomprehendingly before slowly blinking down at the wrinkled dollars he held in one hand.

The running man watched in his rear-view mirror as he drove away, watched as the old man covered his mouth with his open hand and stood head bowed in the rain. The car drove away, and in the far distance as it turned a corner the old man in the old windbreaker and old flannel still stood there, hand over mouth, head bowed down. His other hand clutched 4 dollars.

The man who was no longer running wish he had asked his name. We who have so much.