In The Mountains Of Childhood

Yesterday I traveled to the mountains. Spent the day in the northern woodland realm of upper Pennsylvania. Reminiscing with the trees, rocks, ponds, streams and rivers of my childhood past. One of the few tracks of land left that, in my opinion, is holding stead fast to the old ways. Struggling not to stray from the traditional, holding strong against the sands of time. And while the civilized economy of this land may be hindered because of this. I will forever be great full for that sacrifice. For the opportunity to be able to escape to a land pure and free. To embrace a world ten years behind that of the modern. To get lost, mind and spirit, into the forests and rivers untouched yet by the greed of man and a money sickened society.

For a brief moment I was reborn. Baptized in the crisp, cool mountain air. The colorful fall leaves in full bloom, dancing around my head. Enticing me to dance with them, for a brief moment loosing myself in space and time. The breeze blowing through my hair and against my skin. Somehow seeming to cleanse the dirt and grime off a dusty traveler, better than any bath or washing could ever provide. I stood in the sunlight in the valley of those mountains arms outreached as if begging to embrace it all. Never wanting to leave this place and return to the duties and the world of man. The slight burn from the crisp air filling my lungs, as if it were my last breath of this life. In a struggle to fill not just my lungs themselves but every crevice and cavity of my being as I drew in the breath. Hoping that the purity of the oxygen I could take with me, a little piece of this peaceful world that could last me through the week. The fog and mist in the valley surrounded me as the sun rose. Burning off the dew on the blades of grass, expelling it forth into the air. For a moment I was lost amongst a cloud on the ground. The white fog concealing me fully to the point where I could no longer see my fingertips. For a brief moment I thought I could escape. Reside in the fog and slip into the wood, becoming one with nature around me determined never again to return to the world of man. But my brief joy swiftly turned into disappointment with the sunrise. The fog and mist lifting into the sky, higher and higher away from me. My fingers outreached, grasping, begging not to be denied from the lands magic. But slowly the cloud rose leaving only a mortal man standing alone in the meadow. Facing the reality and responsibilities that he must return to. Not a sadness embodying his figure, but a sense of serenity for the blessing of the moment to be part of it all. The final step in this nostalgic transition to traditional boyhood days, I walked to the rivers edge the soles of my work boots bending and flexing over the rocks and boulders. Seeming to fit together like pieces of a puzzle, finding the familiar groove in the sole and soul again transitioning to past days. When my shoes where allot smaller, barely covering the surface of these same boulders. And my spirit still young and carefree, not yet hindered by the ways of man and the duties of the world. I sit down amongst the riverbed, my hands clutching the sandy gravel once again triggering the senses of the past. I lean forward and immerse my hands in the water, the cool, chilled current of the water slowly washing away the gravel within my palms. The final fleeting hope of remaining within this woodland kingdom disappearing with every speck of sand swept from my fingertips, carried away to reside within the river from which it came. In turn reminding the dreamer who stares at his reflection upon the surface film of the water, the skyline and trees reflection like a halo around his head creating the perfect portraiture. That it is but like any other photograph, a brief moment captured in time. That he too must return to the riverbed of society and take his place amongst the other bits of gravel and specks of sand. I cup my hands and splash my face with the water. Again and again stealing handfuls of love from the river and allowing it run over my face. The water beading off my brow line some drops soaking in the skin replenishing the soul, others slipping past my lips and replenishing my body. But most dripping off my chin and returning to the river from which they came. A few drops, returning to the masses to become something bigger. A single drop of water rejoining, to become a river. The final reminder that I must do the same, I stand slowly smile on my face. Mind body and soul, spirit of a mere man replenished to return to a world that seems so often willing to steal that purity away. I walk back on the trail, my footprints matching the placement of my prior journey that lead me here. Reborn and replenished as a man, from the trees and rocks of the past. From the mountains and rivers of my boyhood I am restored. And when the duties and responsibilities of society seem to flourish, seem to demand more than  what a mortal man can provide. When the hate and wrong of the world seems to steal the peace and purity within the soul. I know I can return, to once again rebirth myself in nature. To once again find the  love and serenity I can attempt to carry back with me, in the mountains of childhood...