Glistening anxieties off the edge of the brow, Drip away carelessly at the nudge of the wind, Which sends crows careening skywards catching a draft; Never an anxiety has littered their brains, This Sunday stroll as natural and unguided and free, As their flight on a Monday morning or Friday afternoon.
Two years ago today, I lost a good friend named Travis “Achilles” Williams. I’ll never understand why the universe took Achilles from us. But then again, I’ll never understand why the universe granted me an encounter with him - a friendship, a brotherhood which would directly alter the course of my existence. The universe broke us when it took him from us, but it built us when he was here. The world is different without Achilles. But it is also different because of him.
Sunshine gleams off my face, a winter’s morning hinting at the seasons to come. I reopen my eyes and slowly glance over the grand breadth which sits before me, all golden and glowing in the morning rays, an expanse so wide and endless that an entire year of gazing could not capture every detail.
Is it healthy to push yourself over a steep snowy hillside with two planks attached to your feet, shouting a loud “yeah buddy” as you plunge into the intimidating? I don’t really know, but I know that each time I’ve edged my skis over the crest, I’ve learned something profound – not necessarily about skiing, but about myself.