Image: tpsdave (Pixabay)
I had never been on a mountain.
When it was dawn that is. – Well, actually I have. It was gorgeous. The sun appearing above the horizon, shining bright orange, shining Sunkist-light, like orange juice in the form of light. Warm, enlivening in the cold. And spreading about the landscape like a beautiful stain.
But this. She sighed when she picked up the postcard.
I’ve never been in this kind of “dawn” on a mountain… Her fingers touched the cellophane lightly.
It’s so beautiful, as though the people there are beautiful too, with wonderful relationships. So cozy, she continued..
I want this dawn on a mountain.
The mountain of the world, where the elements are about you, but you are safe within and around your people, your community.
I want that.
She cried herself to sleep, in a wooden lodge, surrounded by myriad dummies dressed in ski clothes. The firelight flickered off their empty sock puppet faces..
Far away, her real family hung by the phone, waiting for her to call..