The moments that echo are sometimes so small. Jodie and I decided to go snow shoeing last week, up to Skyline Lake. It’s an easy hike… a little steep but the switchbacks make it feel easier and all told it was just around three miles round trip. I had two maps folded in my pocket, protected in a zip lock, but we never needed them. We met a few people along the way but had the trail to ourselves for the most part. The lake was completely covered in ice and snow- it looked like a clearing in the woods more than a body of water. We paused at the edge and watched the pines across the lake sway almost imperceptibly in the wind. And although I hadn’t thought of it in years, suddenly I remembered the first time I did any yoga. Lois Harrod was leading us in simple sun salutations for a break between classes at Governor’s School. 12 teenagers, closing our eyes in mountain pose, feeling the grass of TCNJ on our toes and letting the summer sounds of the campus wash over us.
I don’t stay in touch with any of these people, but lately I’ve been thinking about them a lot. Laura’s laugh, Justin’s quiet strength as we stretched before heading out for a run before the day properly started. The guy I never really liked who called me a deer and wrote about sex in a confusing physical shape that was driven by want and not experience. But we were in high school. So much was awkward want. I know that Joey has a baby now, and makes beautiful objects like teapots and speakers. Justin has a baby too. Susannah’s smile is still broad and joyful, Laura has a dog and lives near D.C. I know these things from social media and the occasional email.
I don’t write anymore. At least, I haven’t in a while. But I do yoga, and I move my body and still think of the the world in poetic form. Jodie and I kept going past the lake- we kept heading up the ridge until we found a garden of boulders, almost covered in snow. She kicked forward, plunging her pole to look for holes, and I followed. At the top we could see the valley, skiers like rice grains, fog and clouds rolling through. The wind bit at us and trees swayed but the ground we stood on was stable.
After Christmas I worked on a print from the boulder garden. I’m not sure it’s finished – but it will do for now.