In the middle of a family adventure,
I turn and see a hill —-
No Everest, but steep and rocky and in that wide-open sprawl of desert, appreciable.
My heart full from playing in the dirt but lacking a suitable outlet,
I have to run up that hill.
I have to.
And it’s good.
But then you. You say, “Can I do it!!!”
It isn’t a question, so how can I answer “No”?
You charge that hill, charge it,
gangly toddler —- no, sorry, “big girl” —- limbs pumping and scrambling,
Undeterred by rocks or steepness, wanting to do it simply because it’s there, it’s a challenge, it’s new.
Too many of us lose that somewhere along the way, but you’re right there, and I want it to take root in you, so I holler and cheer and we all watch you, me and your dad and your little sister, as you do it, you crest that hill and you cheer for yourself.
Then you trot back down
And do it again.
I watch that hill teach you.
Just a nondescript heap of rocks in a nondescript sprawl of desert,
But it’s Everest.