You could imagine how wonderful it is to fly above the clouds, not seated in a chair in a silver tube that shakes and rattles, but with arms outstretched against the wind, the smell of earth beneath you.
You could imagine complete silence so still that it takes your breath.
You could imagine the fragrance of spruce so pleasing it feeds your soul.
Or the sight of wildflowers lacing a meadow with color.
You could, but you don’t have to because these things were given to you.
For the effort of tackling the heat, the dust, commanding your heart and body to carry on you can reach that precipice.
I am grateful for the mountain.