Took a slow walk through time yesterday. Went back to the trail we hiked on Tuesday. This time, rather than turn left and hike along the Piedra River, we turned right and went up the mountain. We walked through the forest clinging to the sides of the mountain, saw big trees toppled by rain. We passed by chasms opened eons ago by ice, looked into them and wondered when they’d fall off the mountain. We stopped to catch our breath in the silence of the primeval forest. Then finally we came to the point of the walk, the cliffs looking down on Williams Creek Canyon and the Piedra River Valley.

It was a stunner. We were up and the valleys were below. A long way below, in deep cuts from eons of running water. It was wonderful. We peered over the edges. Watched clouds pass below us. We ate our lunches. Watched chipmunks come to check us out. We saw a gray cloud come our way. We sought shelter from the sleet that began to fall when it arrived. We braced ourselves against the chill. We were the only ones there and it was lovely.

The best part of the entire adventure, of course, was being there with friends. They’d seen a lovely thing and now wanted us to see it. It was the best sort of gift. Hardly one you buy at a store. It was given from the heart. It is gratifying to receive such a gift. And I very nearly didn’t see it. The entire trip was touch and go for me. My mind is still clouded by uncertainty, and I find myself hesitating at almost every turn. Maybe that’s how life has always been, and a long marriage simply shielded me from it. We shall see. All I know is. I made the trip. Saw my friends. And they shared their gifts with me. That seems good.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale