Illuminated

Dear Cherish,

crunch. crunch. crunch.

The sound of footsteps on gravel echoed off the hills. I stared at my feet and kept the conversation light. He walked ahead of me, chatting politely, asking questions. I answered, equally polite, grateful for the company tonight. I wondered for just a moment what I would say to that boy tomorrow, should he care to ask what I had done the night before, but a question jerked my mind to the present:

"Are you doing okay back there?"

Was I doing okay? Was I truly okay? Wasn't it sad that I had to think about if I was doing okay? Emotionally, no. I was not okay. In fact, I was a mess. A frazzled jumble of crazed emotions and loose wires, ready to fall apart at any moment. I was not okay. But I replied,

"Yup. Totally fine."

We kept going. Because that's what you do right? You just keep going. No matter what happens, no matter who hurts you, or how badly you hurt yourself, or anything, you lie, and keep going. And people will ask you how you're doing and you will lie through your teeth and smile and think to yourself, "I just want to cry." But you'll say something else. It's always something else.

But when we got to the top, the top of that mountain, and we saw the lights and we just stood and watched them sparkle and wink and whisper to each other, I began to feel different. And the wind was blowing and my calves were complaining and my toes were squished in my old running shoes, but I felt better. Bigger. More alive.

And I was tingling. Feeling fresh. And you know what? And the end of that hard day, at the top of the mountain, in the shade of regret, the moon came out from behind the clouds, and in that moment, everything was

illuminated.

Even me.

Always & Forever,

Kate