fifty-three

i can't even write about it now
because my toes are still numb
i haven't showered
and my lower back feels like it just birthed an 80 pound fetus.

there's dirt under my fingernails
my hair is so dirty it doesn't move when i touch it
my legs are red with scratches
and i can't turn my head without my neck reminding me
that it hates me
my whole body hates me

but loves me
because i took it on the best trip of the summer
because when i push myself to my limit i feel
so
fucking
alive

and all those mountains and trees and sky
and you and jokes and trail mix
and sweet, sweet, mountain spring water
and the whole earth that you can touch right in front of you
because it's yours, it's all yours
even though you're the closest you could ever be
to realizing that no one could ever own it

and it's sunsets from mountain tops
and the fog that settles over the bright white moon
and the wind on your sleeping bag
and the rock that cradles you
and the song of the hills that sings you, softly, to sleep
and it's everything i need

it's every part of me that says i love love love love everything about it
all that precious silence and solitude
and the side of me that just doesn't give a fuck about socks and hiking boots and shorts
because i am me! and i am complete!
and i have everything i could ever need
and everything to survive, right there on my back

it's every fall that makes you stronger
and every push that gets you to the top
and every view that makes it worth it
and every memory i'll never forget

thank you, thank you, thank you!
it was the best birthday present i could have gotten,
and it wasn't even mine.