Going back to my hometown is always hard for me. The city has seen me at my lowest of lows, and the constant drab atmosphere wearies me. I don’t want to say the Pacific Northwest depresses me, but it certainly brings out that side.
Despite those issues, there is one place I always want to get to while there: the trail above.
It’s called Burnt Bridge Creek, and it’s my favorite place in the town. I always make it a point to get there at least once per trip.
This trail has seen me through most of my life, from an actually youthful me, to a whatever-I-am-now me, and everything in between. It’s seen me, quite literally, at my lowest of lows, but that’s a story for another time, another medium, perhaps.
It’s changed over the years, as have I, but it still soothes me. I went there once (long ago) with no intention of leaving, but leave I did.
And now I always come back. I’m grateful we can continue meeting each other, through our lives, and still connect. I never thought I’d feel such a way about a trail, but I do.
I am reminded how grateful I am to be here, to be present, and to experience life. I may be struggling in general, but I am awfully fortunate and hopeful about the future. I find beauty in the smallest of things, and am grateful for that, too. Sometimes I am so filled with it, my heart aches.
Thank you for being you and being here. I am filled with gratitude for you, too.