She had never seen the mountains before. Sure, she had seen photographs in her National Geographic magazine subscription and even watched an IMAX movie about the Himalayas, but had she ever actually seen a mountain rising above her with her own eyes?
A couple friends had invited her on a week-long hiking trip. Initially, she laughed and gave an emphatic “No.” Didn’t they know she simply didn’t do things like that?
They told her to stop being a wimp and start breaking in a pair of hiking boots.
With that sort of challenge by people who knew her, she wondered why she had assumed she couldn’t spend a week in the woods hiking. Cold fear snaked up her spine and old whispers of humiliation, failure, and loss of respect caressed her thoughts. She felt the shortening of breath that usually predicted an anxiety attack and started crafting the conversation that needed to happen to avert this terrible experience. Or maybe she could just avoid her friends until they forgot entirely about the invitation.
That’s when her phone dinged with an email notification. Those jerks had already bought her an airplane ticket. Holy Jesus.
Before she could third-guess herself she was in the backseat of a Honda on a curving road where the trees increased and the light poles decreased. She had a pack full of supplies she’d never seen before and a nervous dread in the deepest part of her stomach. She still hadn’t seen any mountains.
“It seems weird to take an air-conditioned car to the middle of nowhere. I thought we were going to be roughing it.”
“Stop with your asinine comments, Suzanne. We know you’re just being a pill.”
David and Amber looked at each other, exchanging thoughts through one expression the way they had always done since high school. She hated it when they did that, especially since years away from both of them meant she no longer could understand the meanings. They were hiding something from her though, that much was for certain.
The Honda stopped in a campground spotted with picnic tables and ground reduced to dirt paths from overuse. The sun was reaching that point in the sky where it shone painfully in her eyes. She grabbed her pack and followed the two lovebirds to a group of rocks, where they showed her the best way to load sixty pounds of supplies onto her back without killing herself. They loaded their packs onto their backs and she realized this was it. She was doing this. Holy Mary.
They started up a small hill where the dirt paths decreased and the overgrown grasses that reached to her fingertips increased. After fifteen minutes she was short of breath with a sweaty forehead, a growing need for either caffeine or nicotine, and a nasty feeling she had made a regrettable mistake. Could she still turn back? She started crafting the conversation that would lead her to a return flight home –
“Suzanne, how are you doing back there?”
“Oh… not too bad… feeling kind of tired… you know… maybe…”
“Don’t worry. We only have two more hours of walking. Then it’ll be worth it. Promise.”
“Oh… okay… I guess so…”
Two more hours? Holy St. Francis.
The night was finally falling and the air was full of the damp, cold feeling that led medieval doctors to advise women to stay indoors. They found an open, flat area to stake tent poles and start a small fire. She was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open so David shoved the bowl of canned chicken and hydrated mashed potatoes into her hands. After a few bites, she started to feel her extremities again.
“Suzanne.”
“Yeah?”
“How are you feeling, babe?”
“Well, ugh.”
She laughed nervously and shoved more deliciously hot food into her mouth.
“Let’s go over to the lake.”
“What lake? I’m tired, Amber.”
She glanced longingly into the ready sleeping bag under the tent.
“No, babe. Let’s go to the lake. We won’t be back here ever.”
Grudgingly, she stood up thinking dark thoughts about her two friends and praying to St. Christopher for the strength to endure future shame. Slipping on a pair of worn tennis shoes and her thick thermal jacket, she followed Amber’s reflective shirt along a path with grasses higher than her waist and tree limbs inching their way into her path. Past a fallen Sequoia hollowed out from a recent forest fire, she wondered what in heavens she, of all people, were doing in a place like this.
Until she saw the lake.
Until she saw the mountain.
Rising above the calm lake like a queen upon her throne, she suddenly understood why ancient Greek citizens declared Mount Olympus to be sacred. It was simply beautiful. The full, bright moon shone on the top of the mountain where snow found a home even in the hot summer days. There was tresses of green and blue striping the mountains – what were those colors anyways? She was mesmerized by the sight. Noticing that it mirrored onto the equally beautiful lake could not astonish her anymore. Her heart was already overwhelmed.
She began to cry.
Years and years of saying no. Years and years of rejection of opportunities because she thought she wasn’t that type of girl. How many beautiful mountains had she missed? How many mirror lakes had passed her by?
Amber placed a comforting hand on her back and gently suggested they go back to the campsite. But she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave the mountain again.