A few years ago, before one of my kids was
going to be busy doing something pretty tough for quite a while (so we were all
going to be busy doing something pretty tough for quite a while) I lugged
everyone up the road to Mt. Washington, as we were not prepared that year to
climb and stay over and climb again, btw my idea of the ultimate heaven. So up
we went to Mt. Washington, and at least I got to show my oldest and his
wife-to-be a taste of the wonder of standing there. They grabbed all the warm hats and things and a back pack, and set off down to Lakes of the Clouds hut, where we'd hiked for a few years with the two youngest. He and his beloved got to gaze over, down Tuckerman's Ravine, and pass by the Lakes and inhale the experience. And I got to have a small cheat Mt. Washington moment, I suspect my last.
But you know, I remember every
minute of climbing with my kids all those years. I remember all the places and
the spoiled red squirrels who you would catch sight of, running down the trail,
and if you didn't have your snack offering at the ready, well, off they'd go,
right on past you, to the next hiker; very efficient. The last few times I
hiked Mt. Washington, with my lungs I was slower than the grandparents; but who
cares?
I got to wander and the Old Man of
the Mountain was still intact, and at night, you'd look out over the terrain of
all those mountains and forests and alpine flowers and it is still there inside
of me today.
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